Magic Isn't Just for Wizards Anymore
by stormpix
Summary: Italy and Romano go to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Harry Potter for England. Book one of seven (hopefully).
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: In Which the Italy Brothers Agree to Help England**

Italy flicked his brown eyes open and frowned. England was doing it again, that subtle twitching and shifting. Nobody else at the G8 meeting seemed to notice; America was laughing obnoxiously, Germany was yelling at France while Japan tried to calm them down, and Russia was sitting on a transparent Canada, smiling creepily. And England… England was acting suspicious. Italy resolved to ask him if something was wrong later. Finally, Germany yelled, "EVERYONE SHUT UP!" The room immediately fell silent. "If we're not going to do anything productive during this meeting, then we should go home! I'm tired of trying to deal with you idiots!" Germany turned to go back to his seat, but froze when he saw Italy's eyes open. Italy quickly closed his eyes and gave Germany what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Ve~ so what's the first topic, Germany?" Germany looked at him strangely for a while longer, then sat down and cleared his throat. "Well, today's topic is…"

~.~

When the somewhat productive meeting ended, Italy was the first out of his seat. Saying a quick goodbye to Germany and Japan, he hurried down to the door to wait for England. Thankfully, the meeting was being held in London, so it was unlikely he would miss the golden-haired country, but it was also England's capital and a rather big city. If Italy missed him, it would be difficult to find him again. To Italy's surprise, England was the next one out. He looked anxious and worried, and he was muttering to himself, and didn't notice Italy. Italy stepped toward him and tapped his shoulder, startling him. When England saw who it was, he tensed.

"What do you want?" England asked. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Italy today.

"Is something bothering you?" Italy replied.

"None of your business," England snapped. He expected the normally timid country to shrink away from him, but to his surprise Italy actually stepped closer, his open eyes boring into England's green ones. Huh. England had never really seen Italy's eyes so clearly before. Now that he got a closer look, he saw warm amber, caramel, even gold undertones in the light brown. And he also saw something unexpected: true sympathy, curiosity, and above all, trustworthiness and willingness to listen. Maybe… just maybe… England sighed and said, "Fine, I'll tell you. But if I tell you, you have to promise me that you will help me out."

Italy smiled. "Of course! If you need help, I'll do my best to supply it!"

England paused. _Italy would be a big help, but two would be better than one…_ "Italy, can you call your brother? I'll probably need Romano's help too," he said. Italy immediately agreed and pulled out his phone. As he called, England began thinking about the best way to tell the Italy brothers about his plan. If they already knew about magic, no problem. Otherwise it could get complicated.

_He agreed!_ Italy thought happily. _But why does he want Romano to come too?_ Italy quickly dialed his brother's number. Of course, the first thing he heard when Romano picked up was: "What the hell do you want, stupido fratello?!"

"Romano, England wants our help with something," Italy replied, keeping his voice serious. Romano picked up on Italy's tone of voice, and replied, "I'll be there as soon as possible," with no argument. When he hung up, Italy turned back to England, his cheerful smile back in place. "Ve~ He said he'll be here as soon as possible, England!"

England frowned. "I didn't even tell you why yet, and he still agreed?" After all, that was very out of character with Romano.

"Ve, of course! He knows that when I'm serious about something, it must be important. He'll be here in about eight hours."

"Eight hours!" England exclaimed.

"It's the best we can do, coming from Italy," Italy replied.

"Well, I don't want to have to explain the same thing twice," England said. "So, uh… I could… um… show you around London," he offered awkwardly.

Italy smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't feel so embarrassed! We're all proud of our capitals, aren't we? If we were in Rome or Venice, I'd show you around too!"

England seemed to regain some of his former pride and composure. "Well then, let's get going." He set off at a brisk walk. "I'll show you some of London's most famous sights." Italy celebrated inwardly as he followed. _England trusts me!_

Eight hours later, England and Italy went to the airport to pick up Romano.

"Ve~ Arthur, wait up!" Italy shoved his way through the crowds of London Heathrow Airport, trying to keep up with the golden-blonde head weaving through the crowd in front of him.

They finally broke free of the crowd, and checked the glowing screen listing the international arrivals. Locating the gate for Romano's (_no, I have to think of him as _Lovino,_ Italy thought,_) flight, they headed for the arrival exit. Italy glanced outside. It was already 7 PM, and the sunset painted the sky a beautiful pink, breaking through London's perpetual gloom.

Waiting at the edge of the barrier, Italy could feel his brother getting closer. _There!_ Romano stepped out of the gate with nothing but a briefcase in hand. _Wow, he really wasn't kidding when he said he'd leave immediately_.

"Fratello! Fratello, over here!" Italy called, waving his white flag above the crowd (and causing more than a few turned heads.) The southern half of Italy turned, spotted the flag, and quickly hurried over.

"Tea Bastard, let's go to your house _now_. I hate crowds," he said.

"Don't call me Tea Bastard!" England said scathingly as they made their way out of the bustling airport. Romano scowled but didn't say anything. Hailing a taxi, they were silent all the way to England's house. Only when they were all seated in England's living room did the golden-haired nation speak.

"Italy. Romano. Have you… Have you cut off ties with your magical governments?" England asked. The two brothers glanced at each other. Romano answered. "We drop in every now and then, but we don't really like to get involved."

England sighed. "At least you haven't cut off _all_ ties… You both know about Voldemort, then?"

"That really murderous Dark Wizard, right?" Italy said. England nodded.

"Yes, he was defeated by a boy named Harry Potter. Or so my Ministry of Magic thinks." England hesitated. "There is a prophecy that says one of them, Potter or Voldemort, must kill the other. As it is, Voldemort will likely send his followers to try and kill the boy before he matures. So," England looked the Italy brothers in the eyes, dark, emerald green boring into brown and light green. "I want you two to protect him."

"Protect him?!" Romano exclaimed incredulously. "How?!"

"This will be his first year at Hogwarts – my magic school," England quickly clarified. "You two can attend as students, and protect him through his years of school."

"Okay!" Italy agreed like the cheerful person he is. Catching his brother's eye (if that's possible with closed eyes), he said, "I promised Eng-Arthur that I would help."

Romano muttered something in Italian that probably wasn't very nice. Then he grumbled, "Fine. But I have a few questions. One: Veneziano and I both look twenty years old. How do we pass as eleven-year old students?"

"De-aging spell."

"Hmm. Two: why don't _you_ go, Arthur?"

"Well, I cut off ties with my magical government for several years, but they might still have files on me," England replied. "I'll go and help if things get bad, but for now the two of you are Harry's best bet."

"Hmph. Fine, then. One more question: What about our jobs?" Romano asked, his eyes narrowing. "Paperwork, national problems, even my mafia."

"I've been thinking about that," England replied. "I figured using a Vanishing Cabinet should work."

Italy's face lit up. "Oh! Those boxes that, if you put something in one, it will appear in the other, right?"

England nodded. "Of course, these Cabinets will have to be small, inconspicuous, and high-security. We can't have a nosy student getting his hands on your work.

Italy sighed, his curl drooping. "Dang… we still have to do paperwork after all…"

"If it's too much, I can handle some of it," England said. "And don't forget I have three brothers who can also help."

"Yeah, and those three brothers hate your guts." Romano said.

"They also hate Voldemort's guts. I _might_ be able to convince them to check up on your country from time to time."

"England, what about world meetings, then?" Italy said. "With me and fratello both gone, there's no one to represent Italy."

"We can just send Seborga," Romano grumbled. "If that bastard agrees."

"We can bribe him with paperwork," Italy said, perking up, and a gleam of something England had never seen before entering his eyes. "Give him two choices: go to meetings with reports, or handle all our paperwork."

Romano chuckled darkly. "Serves him right for becoming a micronation."

England cleared his throat. "Please don't discuss how to kill someone right now," he said. "Since school doesn't start for another two and a half months, you two don't have to do anything now. We'll probably have to start getting you ready in August." He stood up. "You may stay here for the night. Now, please excuse me. I have to go write a letter." He turned and strode out of the room.

"What do we do now, Romano?" Italy asked.

"Whatever, I don't really care."

~.~

A month and a half later, at the end of July, the Italy brothers stood at England's door once again. It had taken them a while to settle their boss down for seven years without his personifications, and Romano had successfully bribed Seborga into attending the annual world meetings for them. It had also taken quite a bit of convincing for their boss to agree to send their paperwork to England.

England opened the door on the first knock. "Italy, Romano, I thought it would be you. Come in. Do you have any luggage?"

"No. Why the f*** would we have luggage when you're turning us into _eleven-year olds?_" Romano growled in his usual annoyed manner.

England decided to ignore his comment. "I've already enrolled you two, so we should get on with the spell. Then I'll take you to get your supplies. These came for you yesterday." He handed each of them a yellowed envelope with a red wax seal with a badger, a snake, an eagle, and a lion curling around a large H. Silently, each brother opened his letter and read the contents.

"I don't get this," Italy said once he was done. "What does 'We await your owl' mean?"

"Wizards in my country use owls to communicate," England explained, taking a sip of the tea he had made while they were reading.

Romano rolled his eyes. "That's so f***ing stupid. Don't your wizards know that owls flying in daylight look very suspicious?"

"Well, what do your wizards use, then?" England snapped.

"Falcons," Italy replied. "They fly fast, and don't stand out as much."

"Well, excuse me for my wizards' choice of messenger animal!" England retorted. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. "Enough about the birds. Unless you have any more questions, let's go to the basement." When neither Italy replied, he stood up and led the way out of the room to a very normal-looking door. He opened the door to reveal a dark, gloomy stone staircase that ended to an old, musty room. The walls were lined with shelves stuffed full of books and other…_things_, and it was dimly lit by torches. In the middle of the room was a large magic circle drawn with thick black lines.

"Stand in the middle of the circle," England instructed. "This won't take too long."

Italy and Romano complied and stood in the middle. England took an old-looking book, opened it, and started chanting in a language that they had never heard before. His clothes and hair billowed in a magic wind. The magic circle flared to life, the black line glowing green as the wind picked up around them. England ended his chant with a shout, and everything went black.

A few minutes later, Italy tentatively opened his eyes. " E-England? Did it work?"

"Yes," England said, appearing in his field of vision. He looked very big.

Italy cautiously sat up. He had been lying on the cold floor. He glanced to the right to see an eleven-year old Romano, still passed out. So it had worked. He crawled over to his brother and patted his head. "Romano, wake up." Wow. Italy's voice was even higher now. Romano groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Veneziano…?"

"I'm right here, Roma," Italy replied. He glanced at England. "Arthur, we should probably go upstairs."

England nodded. He walked over and gently took one of each Italy's hands in his own, pulling them up, Romano protesting a little. As he headed up with the two de-aged countries, he thought, _it's like taking care of America and Canada again_. He felt a warm heat blossom in his chest at the two eleven-year olds, even though he knew, in reality, both were about four times older than his previous charges. Still, it was nice to take care of younger nations…

When they were back in the living room, England said, "Now that you're both de-aged, we should go get your school supplies. We're going to Diagon Alley, a magic street invisible to Muggles."

"What the f*** is a Muggle?" Romano asked grumpily.

"A non-magical person," England replied. He cocked his head slightly. "Do you not call them Muggles?"

"No, we call them Nessagia [1]," Italy said. "Why do we have to go to a magic street? Do you not have a magic district?"

England sighed. "No."

"Then where do all your witches and wizards live?"

"They live with the Muggles and try not to draw attention to themselves," England explained. "Now, please shut up before I decide to hex you." Italy whimpered and remained silent all the way to the Leaky Cauldron.

~.~

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Arthur led them to the back of the pub. Feliciano cocked his head questioningly at the brick wall. "Why are we at a dead end, Arthur?" he asked.

"Just wait." Arthur turned to the brick wall, and, finding the correct brick, tapped it with his wand. The hole opened as the Italian twins watched in amazement.

"That's the first time I've seen magic in decades," Lovino said.

"Yeah, it's been a long time," Feliciano agreed.

Arthur led the trio through the hole, and the wall slowly closed behind them. The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley lay ahead of them. Adults argued, children shrieked, and occasionally an animal call pierced the air. Arthur smirked at the brothers' wonder as he led them down the street.

"You two, go to Madam Malkins, and get your robes fitted," Arthur said, handing the boys the money for their robes. "You do remember how wizard currency works?"

"Twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon," Feliciano replied. Arthur nodded.

"I'm going to go retrieve some money from Gringotts. If, by any chance, you are done before me, just wait outside Madam Malkin's shop. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Lovino said, dragging his brother away. Arthur smirked. They weren't exactly America and Canada, but they were just as bad a combination.

Lovino pushed the door to Madam Malkin's open. The moment the twins stepped inside, a chubby witch hurried up to them.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she asked. They nodded, and she gestured for them to follow her, saying, "Come along, right this way!"

Feliciano went first, magic measuring tape measuring his arms, legs, shoulders, etc. as Lovino waited impatiently. About halfway through, the door jingled, and a few moments later another boy entered. He had a pale, pointy face, and slicked back pale hair. Lovino disliked him instantly.

"Are you two going to Hogwarts too?" the boy drawled.

"Yes!" Feliciano said from the top of the stool. "I'm Feliciano Vargas, and that's my brother Lovino! Who are you?"

The boy didn't answer the question. "Are you muggleborn?" he said haughtily.

"Maybe," Lovino said, as the tape finished, and Feliciano hopped down. Grumbling, Lovino climbed onto the stool as the tape started its work again. The pale boy continued talking.

"What do you mean, 'maybe'? You've _got_ to know your heritage."

"I mean exactly what I said," Lovino snapped. "We don't know. Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. Just shut up, will you?"

The boy opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment Madam Malkin came in with the twins' robes. "Here you are, dears," she said, smiling.

"Thank you!" Feliciano said, back to normal, while Lovino paid. The headed outside, and inwardly Lovino was cursing in annoyance.

Arthur was waiting outside the shop. "What took you two so long? I had enough time to get your books and your potions ingredients!"

"Whatever, let's just go," Lovino grumbled. "What next?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but replied, "Let's go get your wands." He led them to a store called Ollivander's. Feliciano giggled at the sign above the door, while Lovino snorted. _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. _Both boys were still older than the shop. Just barely.

A bell tinkled as Arthur pushed open the door. Everywhere, there were boxes piled on boxes. A small man came out from behind a desk.

"Here for your first wands, are you," he said, silvery eyes not blinking. It was not a question. Feliciano trembled a little, and Lovino narrowed his eyes at Mr. Ollivander, glaring right back. Arthur answered for them. "Yes, that's right. Feliciano and Lovino are attending Hogwarts this year."

"Hmm… very interesting… well, let's get you measured up, and then we'll begin!" Ollivander pulled out two magic measuring tapes, and Lovino groaned. _Not again…_

When the tape finally finished, Ollivander asked, "Who wants to go first?" which, of course, Feliciano replied to with a happy, "I'll go!"

Ollivander went into the piles of boxes, then came back out. "Here, try this one. Ten and a half inches, swishy. Birch and unicorn hair core." Feliciano took the wand and it promptly exploded. Thus began the wand tryouts.

The first: obviously exploded.

Second: Feliciano picked it up, waved it, and blew up one of Ollivander's lights.

Third: Dissolved into black powder.

Fourth –

Arthur held out a hand. "Mr. Ollivander," he said. "Rather than destroying your wands, perhaps you should take a look at mine. Then maybe you will have a better idea of what wand to give my charges."

"Charges?" spluttered Lovino. "We are not-" Feliciano clamped his hand over his twin's mouth. His eyes met Arthur's, sending an unspoken message: _Hurry up and get it done already._

Ollivander looked doubtful as he took Arthur's wand. Examining it closely, his eyes widened in surprise. He rubbed them and checked again.

"Impossible…" Ollivander turned his silvery eyes onto Arthur. "Is your name, by any chance, Kirkland?"

Arthur smiled. "Yes. I'm assuming you met my brother Allistor."

"Why, yes I did. He bought four wands that day…" Ollivander trailed off, then shook himself out of his memories. "Yes, this is one of them. Eleven inches, rather stiff but quite powerful. Oak. And the core… a dual core, hair from a lion's mane with unicorn hair. Dual core wands are very powerful, Mr. Kirkland; inexperienced first years should not be handling them."

"I think you will find that Feliciano and Lovino are much more than just first years," Arthur replied softly. "Please, at least try the dual core wands before we destroy your shop."

Ollivander considered this. Finally he gave in, and with a small sigh went to the back of the store. He came back with two boxes.

"These wands should work for you," he said. "They are twins as well, half of their cores came from the same source…" He took one wand out, and gazed at it before handing it to Feliciano. "There you go, Mr. Vargas. Nine and a half inches, springy and flexible. Oak, like Mr. Kirkland's. Phoenix tail feather with a golden eagle feather." Feliciano took it, and it seemed to glow momentarily, almost with happiness (if wands could be happy). Ollivander turned to Lovino and took out the second wand.

"Now for you, Mr. Vargas… Ten and a quarter inches, very rigid. Oak. Phoenix tail feather – from the same phoenix that supplied your brother's core – and hair from a wolf." The wand maker handed the wand to Lovino, and like Feliciano's wand, Lovino's wand glowed as well. Apart from Lovino's being slightly darker, there appeared to be no difference between the wands.

Ollivander's face dimmed a bit.

"Both of you, be careful with your wands. Wands with dual cores of a magical animal and a non-magical animal are very powerful. Those wands may prove to be hard to handle."

"I doubt it," Arthur said. "After all-" He was cut off by the jingling of the shop's door. Two people entered: a small, thin boy with pale skin, green eyes, and jet-black hair, and a huge giant of a man, with hair that looked like birds could nest in it.

"Ah, Hagrid!" Ollivander said, looking relieved to get away from Arthur and the twins for a few moments. "Very nice to see you again!"

Hagrid nodded and replied, "Pleasure. An' this here is…"

Ollivander turned his luminous eyes on the boy. "Harry Potter…"

Arthur cleared his throat, and the shopkeeper turned back to the trio. "Oh, I'm very sorry," Ollivander said. "For those two wands, it will be…forty Galleons."

Arthur sighed, and paid for the wands. Harry caught sight of the two young boys, both with brown hair and eyes, and weird hair curls. They looked so similar that they had to be twins. He wondered if they were going to Hogwarts too. Probably. He turned back to Ollivander, returning to what he had come to do.

"Ve~ what next, Arthur?" Feliciano said happily.

"You're going to need an animal to communicate with me," Arthur replied. "So we're going to the owl emporium next."

The emporium was dimly lit, and the air was constantly filled with gentle _whoo_s. Bright, glittery eyes followed the three nations, the birds instinctively knowing that they were not normal wizards. The trio checked out the owls, until Lovino spotted one that looked promising, a small, Southern White-Faced Owl. It had a dark gray back with light flecks, and a light belly with black stripes. Its small ear tufts had undersides of dark gray, and down the middle of its forehead there was a darker strip. It had fluffy white feathers on its face, of course, and its intelligent eyes were amber-gold. The moment Lovino held her, she seemed to establish a bond with the nation. Arthur smiled, as Lovino gently stroked the owl's back. So the country had a soft side after all. He paid for the owl, and the three of them strolled out of the emporium with the newest member of their group.

"Lovi, what should we name it?" Feliciano asked.

"_Her,_" Lovino corrected. "I want to call _her_ Chiara."

"Chiara?" England asked. "Why Chiara?"

"Oh, I see!" Feliciano said, ignoring England. "Yeah, it fits her!"

"Chiara it is," Lovino said, reaching in a finger to stroke the Chiara's head. She cooed softly in response, nuzzling his finger.

"Why don't they listen to me?" England sighed, as they walked down Diagon Alley.

* * *

[1] Nessagia – I Google-Translated "no magic" and got _nessuna magia._ Combine them together to get _nessagia_.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: In Which There is a Talking Hat**

"Ve… Arthur's so mean… He just dropped us off and left…" Feliciano looked down at his ticket.

"He's a jerk, all right! I mean, how the hell are we supposed to find Platform nine and three-quarters?" Lovino said, gesturing to the platforms they were currently standing on. "Platform Nine. Platform Ten. No Nine and Three-Quarters! And it's almost eleven, d*** it!"

"Fratello, quiet down… You're drawing attention to us…"

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was in a similar situation as the twins. He too, was stuck between platforms nine and ten, and was also not quite sure what to do. He did, however, hear an angry voice ranting, and decided to find the source.

Following the voice, he pushed through the crowd and discovered, to his surprise, it was one of the boys from the wand shop, along with his brother. He quickly approached them, pushing his cart along. Hedwig hooted a greeting to the twins' owl as they drew close.

"Excuse me, but aren't you two the ones from the wand shop?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, it's you!" the one with the lighter hair said. His accent was clearly Italian.

His brother spun around, eyes narrowed, but he relaxed when he saw Harry. "Oh, you… Do you know how to get to the platform?"

"No, but I'm sure I'll figure it out," Harry replied. He looked around, and suddenly heard a woman's voice say, "Packed with muggles, it is…" The speaker was a plump, red-haired woman with several redheaded children. And they had an _owl_.

"Follow me," he said to the twins, and without checking to see if they were following, he pushed his cart around and headed towards the woman. The rumbling of wheels behind him told Harry the Italian twins were following.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the woman. "Do you know how to… um…"

"Get onto the platform?" she finished. "You must be just starting school, as well! Ron's a first year too," she said, gesturing to the remaining boy (his brothers had disappeared while Harry had been battling the crowd.) "I'm Mrs. Weasley, by the way." She caught sight of the twins, who stumbled out of the crowd behind Harry. "Oh my, do all of you need to get to the platform?"

"Yes, and it's almost eleven!" the darker haired twin said. "What if we miss the train?"

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Getting onto the platform is very simple. You see, all you need to do is run through the barrier between platforms nine and ten." She pointed to the stone barrier. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt at all. You can go at a run if you're nervous. Ron, dear, go with this nice boy, will you?" Ron blushed when his mother singled him out, and quickly turned away.

"Come on," he called to Harry. "My brothers do it every year… Shouldn't be too hard."

The two of them faced the barrier with their carts and pushed towards the wall. They went faster and faster… It was too late to stop… Harry closed his eyes for an impact that never came. When he opened them, he saw he was on another platform. Glancing behind him, he saw the twins burst out from the wall, the taller one breaking out into a string of Italian. Above the barrier was a sign that proudly declared _Platform 9 ¾ _in fancy lettering. On the tracks was a scarlet steam engine with _The Hogwarts Express_ written on its side, smoke already pouring from its funnel, tooting its whistle.

"Hurry, it's about to leave!" Mrs. Weasley, who had come out behind the twins with Ron's sister said. "Ginny, find Fred and George and tell them to help." Ginny nodded and hurried off. With Ron's brothers' help, the twins (the Italian ones), Harry, and Ron managed to get their luggage on the train. Harry and Ron quickly found an empty compartment and sat down, panting. Somewhere, a bell struck eleven, and the compartment lurched as the engine started up. Harry wondered where the Italians had gotten to. Just as he had that thought, the door opened to reveal the very twins he had been thinking about.

"Can we sit here?" the shorter, lighter-haired one said. "Everywhere else is full." For some reason, he had his eyes closed, but when Harry nodded, he navigated his way to an empty seat with no problem.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron said, introducing himself.

"Feliciano Vargas," the shorter twin said.

"Lovino Vargas," the other one said a little grumpily.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, introducing himself.

The other three boys stared at him. Ron's mouth dropped open and his gaze went to Harry's forehead. "Do you really have… you know…"

Harry nodded and pulled back his bangs, showing the scar. Ron's face held an expression resembling awe.

The twins, on the other hand, were not looking at Harry with awe. Their eyes (or Lovino's, at least; Feliciano's were still closed) held something like… scrutiny? It was like they were sizing him up. It made him uncomfortable, but the feeling vanished almost as soon as he noticed it.

"Well, nice to meet all of you!" Feliciano said happily.

"Hey, Feliciano, are you from Italy? I thought only wizards from the UK attended Hogwarts." Harry asked.

"Originally, yes," Feliciano replied, coming up with a lie on the spot. "But our parents died when we were nine and we were taken in by a British man named Arthur."

To stop the conversation from going into touchier subjects, Lovino directed the conversation to Ron. "Ron, you're from a wizarding family, right?" Ron nodded.

"Wow. Then you must know loads of magic already," Harry said.

"No, not really…"

* * *

Apart from a brief encounter with Malfoy and his thugs Crabbe and Goyle, the four spent an enjoyable train ride to Hogwarts, all four quickly becoming fast friends. When at last the train screeched to a stop, the four hurried out, pockets filled with leftover sweets.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A huge man, the same man Feliciano and Lovino had seen with Harry in Diagon Alley, towered over the sea of black robes. Ron stared at him.

"Blimey, he's huge," Ron said.

"That's Hagrid," Harry replied. "Don't worry, he's actually really friendly."

The four struggled through the crowd, following the giant man. Hagrid led them down to a dark, smooth lake. "No more tha' four to a boa', now," Hagrid said. Harry and Ron had been separated from the twins, and ended up in a boat with Neville Longbottom, the boy who lost his toad on the train. Feliciano and Lovino found themselves in a boat with Draco Malfoy and Crabbe (to the twins' displeasure.) At a command from Hagrid (who was in a boat by himself), the boats began to glide by themselves over the dark, smooth water.

"You'll be getting' yer first view of Hogwarts just around the bend, here," Hagrid said. The boat rounded the bend, and Feliciano let out a little gasp, while even grumpy Lovino's eyes widened as they took in the massive castle. It was huge and majestic, and light poured from the many windows.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled as they passed under an arch. When they reached the shore, in a sort of little bay under the castle, everyone scrambled out of the boats. They clumped together in groups while Hagrid checked the boats to make sure no one was still in a vessel. As they waited, Feliciano and Lovino pushed their way over to Harry and Ron.

"Oh, hey, you two," Ron said. "Where'd you go?"

"We got separated, duh," Lovino replied. "And we had to ride with that blonde ferret."

"Blonde ferret… Malfoy?" Harry asked. The twins nodded glumly. They didn't get a chance to talk anymore as suddenly Hagrid yelled out, "Anyon' lost a toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville said gratefully, opening his hands to receive his pet.

"All righ', everyon' follow me," Hagrid said, leading the way up a few stairs to a pair of sturdy wooden doors. He knocked on them three times. They were opened by a stern-looking witch, with graying hair tied back in a tight bun and glasses perched on her nose.

"The new firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall replied. "I'll take them from here." She led them into a large foyer. "Please wait here while we get ready."

"This place is so cool!" Feliciano said, gazing(?) around him. "Isn't it, fratello?"

"It is pretty impressive," Lovino said grudgingly. "But St. Peter's Basilica is much better."

Harry wasn't exactly sure where or what St. Peter's Basilica was, but at that moment, pearly white figures entered the room through the walls. The ghosts startled the already-nervous first years. One girl even screamed.

"Oh? What's this? New first years, aren't you?" a chubby ghost said. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" He grinned. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff. My old house, you know."

Just then McGonagall came back into the room. "Move along, now," she said to the ghosts. The friendly ghost winked at the first years before following the other ghosts through the opposite wall. McGonagall turned back to the first years.

"In just a few moment's time," she said, "You will enter the Great Hall to be Sorted into one of the four Hogwarts houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw. The Sorting is very important, as you House will become your 'family' at Hogwarts; you will eat, sleep, and take classes with them. Do you all understand?"

"Sort of!" Feliciano piped up cheerfully. Lovino clamped a hand over his brother's mouth.

The professor regarded him with a small smile, then turned and pushed the huge doors open. As Professor McGonagall led the students down the center of the hall, another professer placed a tattered old hat on a stool. To everyone's surprise, a rip on the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing. When it finished, Harry, Ron, Feliciano, and Lovino all began to feel nervous, but for two very different reasons. Harry and Ron were worried about what house they would be in, while Feliciano and Lovino were worried about the Hat finding out about what they were.

"When I call your name, come up to the stool and put the Hat on. The Hat will then shout out the name of your house," McGonagall instructed. She began reading from a scroll. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah walked up to the stool and put the Hat on. After a few seconds the Hat proclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry noticed the Hat sometimes shouted out the house quickly, while other times it considered for a while before deciding. As his turn drew closer and closer, Harry began to feel nervous. What if the Hat didn't put him in any house at all? What if he just sat there for ages and ages, until finally McGonagall plucked the hat off his head and told him there was some mistake, and that he'd better get back on the train?

Finally, Professor McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry!" As he walked up, he heard whispers from the assembled students.

"Potter? Did she say _Potter_?"

"Like, _the_ Harry Potter?"

"Is it really him?"

Feliciano watched passively as Harry nervously walked up to the podium and put the Hat on. It considered him for a very long time before finally yelling, "GRYFFINDOR!" He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Gryffindor seemed like a good house. As McGonagall continued on, he mentally told himself: _I must get into a house that helps the mission. Nothing else matters. Harry Potter's safety is priority._

"Vargas, Feliciano!" Feliciano walked up to the podium. Even though there was nothing to worry about, nervousness still pricked at his mind. His heart started beating faster than its usual speed, which was already faster than normal humans. He sat down on the stool and picked up the ragged old thing. The world went dark as the hat slipped over his eyes. Yet strangely, the Hat did not say anything for a good ten to twenty seconds. Though Feliciano did not know it, the Hat was dealing with something it had never come across before.

The Sorting Hat reached into the boy's mind, expecting just another normal mind to sift through. Instead, it was plunged into a pit of what seemed like millions of minds, their voices screaming out around him, memories and personalities flashing back and forth. What was this? The Hat struggled out of the "pool", and, for the first time ever, it had to force itself to turn to the boy's mind, and establish a link. The voices faded into background noise. Yet once it found the boy, it was bombarded by millions of memories, surrounding it like a thick fog. Finally breaking through, it saw the mind. Finally, the Hat could ask, "Who… no, _what_ are you?"

The boy hesitated, and then replied, "I'm Italy."

"A… country?"

"Si," the boy, no, _Italy_, replied. "And I am here on a mission. To protect Harry Potter."

"So, you want me to put you in a house that will support your mission."

"Si."

"Very well," the hat said, and turned to Italy's personality. "Hmm… You are very difficult, even more than Harry Potter himself. However, you will not fit in Gryffindor. But you are very intelligent. Not just for the pursuit of knowledge, but also in manipulating your enemies. Do not let yourself get overwhelmed. Your years here will be hard, but this is the best house for both you and your mission." The hat finally shouted its answer to the crowd.

"SLYTHERIN!"

At the Gryffindor table, Harry's hopes fell. How, _why_, was cheerful Feliciano in Slytherin? He watched the brown-haired boy take off the hat and skip to the Slytherin table with a happy smile on his face. It just didn't make sense. But to the twin of the one who had just been Sorted, it made perfect sense as McGonagall called, "Vargas, Lovino!"

Lovino stalked up to the stool and jammed the Hat onto his head. Remembering the length of time the Hat had spent on his brother, he remained silent as the Hat battled through the voices and minds of his citizens and through his storm of memories, even more than Feliciano possessed. Finally, he sensed it had succeeded.

"Are you a country as well?" the Hat asked in his mind.

"Hmph. So you figured it out," Lovino replied. "Si, I am Italy."

Lovino could sense the Hat's question before it asked. "But your brother was Italy."

"He's North. I'm South. I'm going to assume he also told you about our mission?"

"Yes," the hat replied. "I took a risk in placing him in Slytherin," it confessed. "There was no guarantee you would fit in Gryffindor. But it seems it was a risk worth taking. Although you do not typically show it, you have a great amount of bravery and loyalty in you, especially to your brother. In this house, you can also befriend and keep an eye on Harry Potter. GRYFFINDOR!"

As he took the hat off, he heard the Hat whisper, "Good luck, South Italy."

With the Hat's farewell ringing in his head, Lovino quickly hurried to the Gryffindor table and sat down opposite Harry. Turning his attention back to the front, he realized the next student would be Ron.

It didn't take long for Ron to be declared a Gryffindor. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief as the nervous, red-haired boy scrambled to sit down. Finally, the Sorting ended, and Professor McGonagall took the hat and stool away. Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, stepped up to the podium.

"I have only a few words to say before we eat," he declared. "Nitwit! Blubber! Tweak! Thank you!" He returned to his seat.

"Is he mad?" Harry wondered across the table.

"No, he's brilliant," Percy Weasley said. "Then again, maybe he is, just a bit. Potatoes?"

Harry's and Lovino's jaws dropped open at the exact same time, though Lovino quickly shut his. The platters in front of them were suddenly overflowing with food. Lovino suddenly recalled the last time England had fed someone his food; Prussia had been in the hospital for _weeks_. If England's food was bad enough to nearly _kill_ a nation… he shuddered and picked up his fork. No one was dropping dead yet, so maybe it was okay.

At the Slytherin table, Feliciano appeared to be completely oblivious to the murderous looks several other Slytherins gave him as he acted and talked like his usual, cheerful self. Like Lovino, he had been apprehensive of the food at first, but when he tried it, it proved to be edible, and dare he even say it, _tasty_. He was disappointed that there was no pasta, though. Feliciano could tell what almost every Slytherin was thinking: _How did this idiot end up in Slytherin?!_

When the last crumbs faded from the plates, Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and started to talk. Lovino lost interest after the first few words and tuned the headmaster out. He was mostly just listing the rules, anyway.

When Dumbledore finished his droning, he made sure to stay close to Harry as Percy led the Gryffindors out of the hall. They walked up staircases, through hidden doors, and through more hallways. They were walking up another staircase when they encountered a floating bundle of sticks.

"Peeves. A poltergeist," Percy whispered to the first years. He said to the bundle, "Peeves! Show yourself!"

There was a cackling laugh as Peeves flickered into existence. "Hee-hee! Oooh, ickle first years!" Peeves swooped over the students, dropping twigs on them.

"Peeves, if you don't leave us alone I'll call the Baron!" Percy threatened. Peeves stuck out his tongue, blew a raspberry, and disappeared with a small _pop_! The sticks clattered to the ground. Percy shook his head. "The only one who can control him is the Bloody Baron. He doesn't even listen to us prefects." Lovino privately imagined what would happen if he dropped Peeves into Germany's house, and hid a smile.

Finally Percy led them to a large portrait of a fat woman dressed in a pink dress. "Password?" the Fat Lady demanded imperiously.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said, and the portrait swung open, revealing a cozy common room lit by a cheerfully crackling fire. There were plush chairs and tables scattered around the room. Two staircases led up to the dormitories. Lovino filed up the stairs with the other boys, and took in the dorm room. When everyone was in bed, he waited to hear the heavy breathing of the sleeping boys before finally allowing himself to relax. He sighed in the silence. This was going to be a _very_ tiring year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my gosh, thank you all for reading and reviewing! I will say more at the bottom of the chapter, so please enjoy.**

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**Chapter 3: In Which Romano Annoys and Is Annoyed By Malfoy**

"Where? Do you see him?"

"Over there. Next to the tall kid with red hair."

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he set foot outside Gryffindor Tower the next morning. Lovino scowled at all the gawking people. Couldn't they tell Harry was feeling awkward and uncomfortable?

"Lovino? Mate, what's wrong?" Ron waved his hand in front of the Italian's face.

"Nothing, just…" Lovino gestured at the onlookers. "It's kind of annoying, isn't it?"

Ron shrugged. "A little. But there's nothing we can do about it."

At breakfast that morning, the morning post arrived via a large flock of owls, quite clearly startling Harry and Lovino. Ron gazed at them enviously as Hedwig and Chiara flew down to their respective owners.

"Wish I had an owl," Ron mumbled.

"Don't feel so down," Lovino replied, feeding Chiaro a sausage. "I have to share Chiara with my brother."

Said brother shot into the Great Hall and dashed over to the Gryffindor table like a rocket. "Lovinoooooo! _Buongiorno_!" Feliciano threw his arms around his older brother.

"Ack! Get off me!" Lovino swiped at Feliciano, Chiara hooting as she took to the air to avoid the Italians.

Harry and Ron managed to pry Feliciano off of Lovino. "What're you doing here, Feliciano?" Harry asked, acutely aware of the questioning and suspicious looks they were getting from the other Gryffindors. It was pretty clear they didn't like having a Slytherin anywhere near their table, even if said Slytherin was a bit odd.

"I just came to say good morning!" Feliciano said. He smiled cheerfully and gave them a wave before skipping to the Slytherin table. Harry could see Malfoy glaring at the Italian. _Oh, Feliciano…_

If breakfast was strange, it was nothing compared to the classes. They received their timetables at breakfast.

"Ugh, we got Potions with the Slytherins," Ron groaned. "Oh, uh, no offense, Lovino."

"None taken," Lovino replied. "Is having Potions with the Slytherins bad?"

"Snape's head of Slytherin house," Ron said, pointing to the hook-nosed, greasy-haired teacher. "They say he favors them."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry said. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor.

Lovino huffed as he tucked the timetable away into his bag. "At least my brother will be there."

* * *

Three times a week, they headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology. The teacher was a chubby woman called Professor Sprout, who was also head of Hufflepuff house. Once a week, at midnight, they would head up to the Astronomy tower to look at the stars and planets in Astronomy. History of Magic was easily the most boring class, and also the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been rather old when he lay down to sleep in front of the fire. In the morning he got up to teach, leaving his body behind. Binns wasn't one to let something like death stop him from droning on and on about goblin rebellions. Strangely, Harry noticed that Lovino seemed to have no trouble in History of Magic despite the fact that he rarely paid attention at all.

Transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. She had the ability to keep a room quiet just by speaking normally. McGonagall started class with roll call. She then proceeded to turn her desk into a pig and back, which got the class excited (except maybe for Lovino). Their enthusiasm was dimmed, however, when they learned they would not be learning to turn furniture into animals for a very long time. They all got matches, which they were supposed to turn into needles. By the end of the class, only Hermione and Lovino had succeeded. Professor McGonagall showed everyone how Hermione's match had gone all silver and pointy, and gave her a rare smile. Lovino's didn't receive quite the same praise, as somehow it had turned out to be a gold needle rather than a silver one, but McGonagall gave Gryffindor some points anyway.

Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a tiny teacher who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Like McGonagall, he started with roll call, and when he reached Harry's name, he got so excited he toppled off the books and the chair, disappearing behind the desk.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class everyone had really been looking forward to, but it turned out to be kind of a joke. Professor Quirrell's classroom stunk of garlic, and he stuttered and trembled so much they couldn't learn much anyway. Professor Quirrell claimed that he had received his turban as a gift when he rescued someone from a zombie, but when asked for the tale he had turned pale and started rambling about the weather. The Weasley twins said that he had been traumatized by a vampire, and kept garlic in the turban to ward off any other vampires.

Potions, as Ron had said, was taught by Snape. Not only that, the classroom was in a dungeon, adding to the already apprehensive, tense atmosphere. Snape too, started with roll call. When he reached Harry's name, he paused and said mockingly, "Ah, Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." Malfoy and his goons snickered.

When Snape finished calling roll, he turned to the class. "Welcome to Potions. There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, if you are one of the few who possess the ability, I can teach you to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death. Potter!" he suddenly snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was visibly startled. "I don't know, sir." Hermione, a Gryffindor girl who had been helping Neville to find his toad on the train, shot her hand in the air.

"Tut, tut, fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said mockingly. "Where would you tell me to look if I wanted to find a bezoar?"

Feliciano and Lovino both cringed. The last time they had seen a bezoar, it had been _very_ messy. That goat had been rather nastily butchered. Harry was looking more and more flustered. "I don't know, sir." On the other hand, Hermione was starting to look like Italy surrendering, as if she was waving an invisible flag back and forth.

"Thought you wouldn't look in a textbook before coming, hm?" Snape sneered at Harry. Harry felt a little indignant at that statement; he _had_ looked through his books, but did Snape expect him to remember everything from _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

"Potter!" Snape snarled again. "What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood?" Hermione stood up, her raised hand practically shooting for the ceiling and vibrating like a bowstring.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said. "Why don't you call on Hermione, she knows."

Snape glared at him. "When powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood, it creates a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone that can be found in a goat's stomach. (Feliciano whimpered at this, and Lovino gently hushed him, whispering, _"It was over a thousand years ago, don't worry,"_ in Italian to him) As for wolfsbane and monkshood, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying all this down?" There was a sudden rustling as the students scrambled for their quills and parchment. "And one point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape added.

They were put in pairs to create a potion to cure boils. Feliciano was paired with Harry, the latter looking immensely grateful, and Lovino had to put up with Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered at Lovino. "So you're that idiot's brother, huh?"

"So what if I am?" Lovino growled back, measuring out the nettles for the potion.

"Let me do that," Malfoy said snobbily, shoving Lovino out of the way. "You'll just mess it up."

Lovino clenched his teeth, but simply walked around Malfoy to crush some snake fang before the blond could protest, carefully keeping his anger under control. _D***, he's even worse than the Potato Bastards…_

To Harry's surprise, Feliciano turned out to be a genius potion brewer. When Snape walked over to inspect their potion, he couldn't find any fault in it. Or maybe it helped that Feliciano was a Slytherin, and if Snape wanted to deduct points he would have to deduct from his own House as well.

They were just adding the final ingredients when they heard a yelp. Neville, who had been working with Dean Thomas, another Gryffindor, had somehow melted their cauldron into a twisted blob. Neville's arms were covered in boils, and the potion was rapidly spreading through the room, setting things on fire. Within a few seconds everyone was standing on their chairs, except for Neville, who whimpered and moaned with pain.

"Idiot!" Snape hissed. ("Ooh, I thought that insult was only for me~" Feliciano whispered to Harry.) "I suppose you added the porcupine quills _before_ taking the cauldron off the fire?" Neville didn't respond, only whimpering again.

"Potter!" Snape rounded on Harry. "Why didn't you tell Longbottom not to add the quills?" He turned back to Neville. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor. Now go get yourself cleaned up in the hospital wing."

"I didn't know you were so good at Potions, Feliciano," Harry said as they walked out of the dungeon after that disastrous first class.

"Ve~ I'm good at cooking, and brewing potions is pretty similar," Feliciano said. "Lovino's okay, too."

"Or I would have been," Lovino growled, walking up behind them, "if that idiot Malfoy hadn't messed up my every move. And Snape didn't deduct any points!"

"Malfoy's in his House, _fratello_, why would he?" Feliciano said.

"McGonagall would do it to us," Ron broke in, joining the group. "She's one scary woman."

"What do we have next?" Lovino asked.

"Free time," Harry replied. "We should probably start our homework just in case."

"Ve~ can I come with you?" Feliciano asked.

"To where?" Ron replied, confused.

"Gryffindor Tower," Feliciano said. "None of the Slytherins really like me, and the common room gets kind of creepy sometimes. And if I'm there Malfoy is just going to pick on me again."

"I suppose you could," Harry said. "The other Gryffindors won't like a Slytherin in the common room, but it should be fine once they get to know you."

Harry's prediction proved correct. The moment someone spotted Feliciano's Slytherin badge, suspicion filled the room. Glares were shot at the cheerful Italian, who didn't seem to notice.

"What's a _Slytherin_ doing here?" Another first year named Seamus spat. "He should go back to his nasty friends in that dungeon of theirs."

Before Lovino or Ron could tell him off, Feliciano said, "But I haven't got any friends in Slytherin! So will you let me stay with my brother?"

There were dark mutterings in the huddles of Gryffindors. Feeling intimidated, Lovino took Feliciano and left for the library, saying, "At least my Housemates won't be glaring at us there." Harry and Ron followed, not wanting to abandon their friends. The quartet took to doing their homework in the library from then on, to avoid the distrusting looks of the other Gryffindors. Not that none of those looks were shot at them in the library, but the pressure was lessened by a lot.

"No way," Ron groaned, looking at a notice pinned to a board. "Flying lessons are this Thursday, and we've got to do it with the Slytherins!"

Lovino scowled. "At least my brother will be there. But we'll have to deal with Malfoy."

Since Feliciano was Harry and Ron's friend, classes with the Slytherins were not quite as bad as they could have been. But on the downside that meant Malfoy was always there as well. Harry was disappointed to hear the news; he had been looking forward to flying more than anything, since flying was one thing you couldn't learn by heart out of a book. Of course, that didn't stop Hermione, the book-lover that she was, from trying. On Thursday morning at breakfast she bored them all silly with tips from _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Lovino finally growled at her to shut up, even though Neville was hanging onto her every word.

"Shut up and let us eat our breakfast!" Lovino snapped at Hermione. She pouted at him and scooted further down the table before continuing.

"That girl is going to marry a book someday," Ron said through a mouthful of toast.

Harry just shook his head. "Let's go out to the field."

When all the Gryffindors and Slytherins were lined up next to the lines of broomsticks, Madam Hooch, the Quidditch coach, said, "Welcome to flying lessons! We'll be using these brooms today." Harry looked down at his broom. The twigs were frayed, dirty, and disorganized, and the handle was scratched. It definitely didn't look very reliable, and glancing around, he concluded that Lovino and Feliciano had the same thought.

Harry was correct in his prediction, although Lovino's thoughts were more along the lines of _That looks horrible but I've been on worse _while Feliciano was thinking, _I hope I don't get shot down. Ah, wait, calm down, this isn't World War Two anymore…_

"Hold your hand over your broom," Hooch instructed, "and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" Harry's broom leapt into his hand at once, although he was one of the few who did. Hermione's broom rolled over, Lovino's broom had risen partway and fallen back down, Feliciano's broom actually appeared to have scooted _away_ from him, and Neville's broom hadn't moved at all. Maybe a broom could tell whether or not you were nervous, like a horse; Neville's quavering voice said, quite clearly, that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

"Up!" Ron commanded next to him. His broom flew up and smacked his face with its handle. "Ow! Oh, shut up, Harry," he said, seeing Harry snickering. [1]

Once everyone had their brooms, Hooch showed them how to mount them properly without sliding off. Harry, Ron, and Lovino were very pleased when she told Malfoy that he'd been doing it wrong for years. Harry noticed that Feliciano had a very strange expression on his face; he looked like he was both freaking out and trying to calm himself down at the same time. He wondered why Feliciano was doing that. Was he scared of heights or something?

"When I count to three," Madam Hooch instructed, "push off hard from the ground. One… two…"

Before she could say "three", Neville, already nervous and not wanting to be left behind, pushed off as hard as he could.

"Come back, boy!" Hooch shouted as Neville rose into the sky like a cork shot out of a bottle. But he was already too far. With a shout, Neville lost his grip on the handle and tumbled to the ground. A sickening _snap_ was heard as something in his body broke. When Madam Hooch inspected the groaning boy, they heard her mutter, "Broken wrist. Come on, boy, up you get." She glared around at the other first years. "None of you mess around while I'm gone or I'll have you out of this school faster than you can say 'Quidditch'. Understood?" She led Neville into the castle.

The moment she was out of sight, the Slytherins (except Feliciano, of course) broke into laughter.

"Did you see him?" Malfoy guffawed. "Ridiculous, even for a wizard!" His goons laughed right along with him.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron growled.

Malfoy sneered at him. Then his eyes alighted on something lying on the ground. Like a hawk, he swooped in and grabbed it, holding up his prize. It was Neville's Remembrall, which he had received at breakfast. It must have fallen out of his pocket.

"Ooh, it's Longbottom's toy!" Malfoy crowed. "I have an idea: Why don't I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find? How about...up a tree?"

Harry stepped towards Malfoy, anger boiling up inside of him. "Give it here, Malfoy." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Italian brothers tense, but he didn't think anything of it.

Malfoy grinned snobbily. "Come and get it then, Potter!" He leaped onto his broom and pushed off.

"No, Harry, don't –" Ron called too late. Harry grabbed his own broom and pushed off without a second thought.

It was _wonderful_. Flying felt totally natural to Harry as he shot up after Malfoy, who looked surprised to see him in the air. Harry faced Malfoy on his broom.

"Not so strong without your henchmen here," Harry said. Malfoy paled as he realized that Harry was right. They were alone up in the air. Malfoy tried to put a smirk on his face.

"Well, if you want it," he said, raising the Remembrall, "go get it!" He threw it.

Harry followed the arc of the orb as it sailed through the air. He dove after it, stretching out his hand as the ground grew nearer and nearer. He grasped it in his hand and barely managed to pull out of his dive in time, landing gently on the ground.

"Potter! POTTER!" Professor McGonagall came running out to the field, her face tight with indignation. "Never – in all my years-"

"It was Malfoy, Professor-" Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor, said,

"Yeah, he stole Neville's Remembrall, and-" Ron broke in.

"Silence!" McGonagall commanded. "Potter, come with me. The rest of you, continue the lesson when Madam Hooch returns." Harry gave the others nervous looks as he followed McGonagall back into the castle.

"_S***," _Lovino cursed in Italian. "_What do we do now?"_

"_We'll just have to see what happens," _Feliciano replied. "_He probably won't be expelled or anything bad like that."_

Lovino frowned at his brother. "_You looked kind of freaked when we first started. What's wrong?"_

"_N-Nothing," _Feliciano replied quickly. "_I'm fine."_

"_No, you're not,"_ Lovino insisted. His gaze softened. "_Were you remembering World War Two?"_

"_Fratello, not here,"_ Feliciano said, glancing around.

"_No one here speaks Italian," _Lovino said. "_At least, not in Gryffindor."_

"_Yeah, well, Blaise Zabini does," _Feliciano replied. "_That guy over there._" He pointed to a nasty looking Slytherin who was laughing at one of Malfoy's jokes. "_He's not anywhere near fluent, but what he does understand might be enough to expose us._"

Lovino scowled. "_We'll talk later then. In the library."_

Feliciano only nodded. They didn't have any chance to talk any more anyway, as Madam Hooch came out a few seconds later and yelled at them all to get back on their brooms.

* * *

_buongiorno_ \- Italian (duh), good morning

[1] This is actually a movie reference, in the _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone _movie Ron's broom does this.

**Oh my gosh, I've gotten so many reviews! And I barely hit 3000 words with this chapter. Phew. Anyway, thank you all so much! Let me answer a question I've gotten:**

**Lillian Forest, yes, I am basing this off the books, but I may throw in a movie reference like I did in this chapter.**

**I would like to let everyone know two things:**

**1\. I am writing this from memory, with the help of other fanfictions in terms of events. I don't actually have the book with me.**

**2\. Don't expect me to update this quickly! Once school starts I will get **_**very**_** busy.**

**I have also received a review that said the reviewer was not really sure how Italy got into Slytherin. I have two reasons for this, one of which is a personal headcanon. The other reason is: process of elimination. Italy isn't brave. Not loyal either (for those of you who don't know, Italy actually joined the Allies in 1943, during WWII!) And not particularly smart. Cunning is probably the closest I can get.**

**Alright, author rant is over! See you all in the next chapter! Ciao!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Harry Potter or Hetalia.**

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**Chapter 4: In Which Feliciano Admits Why He is Scared of Flying**

After the flying lesson, before dinner, Lovino and Feliciano quietly crept into the library and found a secluded corner, strategically placing themselves so that the bookshelves would mostly hide them from view.

"So, what's wrong?" Lovino asked Feliciano, frowning. "You looked like you were remembering something bad during flight lessons."

Feliciano hesitated. "I… I don't want to talk about it," he admitted. "Sometimes I still get nightmares from _that time_."

"Just tell me," Lovino urged. "We're brothers, right? You can tell me anything."

Feliciano sighed, his happy, oblivious façade slipping. "Fine, just give me a moment." He took a deep breath, calming himself. Lovino wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders. "It's okay," he said in a soothing voice. "I'm here. You can tell me."

Feliciano took another deep, shuddering breath. He sounded like he was about to cry. "I-it happened during World War Two. When Mussolini sent me to the front lines…"

* * *

_** January 13, 1945**_

_ "What?!"_

_ "You heard me," Italy's current boss, Benito Mussolini, said, lacing his fingers together. "I'm sending you onto the front lines. I know that just your presence will boost their morale and make them want to fight harder."_

_ "B-but-"_

_ "Don't worry, you're not going to fight with the infantry," Mussolini said. "You'll stay with them for a bit, but I want you fighting in the air. You'll be a pilot."_

_ Italy cringed. _Boss, that's not making me feel any better…_ Italian aircraft was not exactly the most reliable._

_ "Why are you sending me?" he asked tentatively._

_ Mussolini's face darkened. "Because I lost your brother to those d*** Allies! He was the better fighter, but since he's gone, I turned to you. You're a personification, aren't you? Fight for your people!"_

_ Italy winced inwardly. Most people thought Italy was better than Romano in general, even Romano himself. But when it came to war, Romano was stronger and a better fighter; Italy was better at working behind the lines with the supplies and politics. As for fighting for his people, well, his people were rather divided at the moment. Some supported Mussolini, others wanted him gone. If he concentrated, he could hear the two sides screaming at each other in his head._

_** Fight for Mussolini and the Italian Social Republic [1]! He will make Italy great!**_

_** No, Mussolini is a traitor to our country! We should join the Allies and free Italy from the Nazis' grasp completely! Long live Italy! [2]**_

_ Since Sicily had fallen to the Allies and Allied forces were now on the mainland, Romano wasn't there to support him anymore. And Italian aircraft… the less said about them, the better. Italy knew this wasn't going to turn out well._

* * *

_**Two weeks later**_

_ "Alright, does everyone understand their mission?" the commander asked. "Get in, drop the bombs, and get out as soon as possible. Don't stick around waiting for their antiaircraft guns to shoot you."_

_ "Yes, sir!" the pilots, including Italy, said. The commander signaled for them to get in position, and Italy quickly ran to his plane. It was one of the slightly newer aircraft. In other words, it dated back to a few years after World War One. Carefully Italy climbed into the cockpit, anxiety and nervousness gnawing at his stomach. He took one last glance out the plane's door before shutting it and starting the engine. One by one, under the cover of a darkening sky, the aircraft took off from the airfield, flying towards an Allied base._

_ It didn't come as a surprise to Italy when his plane started to malfunction. The engine spluttered and coughed, and the plane's nose kept dipping down, straining for the ground. It took all of Italy's strength to keep it in the air._

Maybe I should just make an emergency landing in Allied territory,_ he thought. _Then I can surrender to them and see big brother again.

_ He was just considering the landing or possibly turning back when he was hit. An antiaircraft missile had grazed his plane's wing. With high-tech American or British planes, this wouldn't have been a problem, but it was too much for the older Italian plane. Half the wing snapped off and blew away into the dark sky. Italy cursed and tried to regain control of the plane, which had rocked dangerously when it was hit. Of course, a barrage balloon [3] chose that moment to materialize out of the clouds. Italy's plane slammed into the giant blimp, the nose of the plane crumpling in on itself and the plane rebounding away from the sturdy balloon. Italy frantically pulled at the throttle as the plane fell backwards._

It can't possibly get any worse than this, can it?_ He thought angrily to himself._

_ To his disbelief, it got worse. The next antiaircraft missile hit the back half of his plane. Italy was literally blown out of the air._

* * *

_ "What…no way."_

_ "Italy? Can you hear me?"_

_ "Italy, wake up."_

_ Italy groggily opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, gazing up at three hazy figures. His neck burned; he must have snapped his neck when he fell, died, and came back to life lying on this field._

_ "That's it. I'm never flying alone again…" Italy mumbled. The figures grew less hazy, and he made out some defining features. Some _very _familiar defining features._

_ Specifically a cowlick, a bouncing curl, and a pair of enormous eyebrows._

* * *

"Wait, hold on," Lovino interrupted. "Are you saying that three Allies found you after you crashlanded, and they didn't tell me?"

Feliciano winced and rubbed his neck. "I think so. I'm not sure. I mean, all I saw of the camp was a cell and the interrogation facility Canada, America, and England took me to."

* * *

_ When they realized he was awake, the three Allies blindfolded him and tied his arms together before leading Italy into their base. Italy had no idea where he was going until he heard the creak of a metal door. A hand shoved him into the room. Someone else took off his blindfold, and he spun around. He only caught a glimpse of Canada's hair curl before the cell door slammed in his face. Sighing, he sat down to wait. The cell was dimly lit but not very dirty, which Italy was grateful for. It must have been set up recently. He was just considering whether to try and break out or not when he heard England and America's arguing voices. They were talking about him._

_ "I don't think we should even try interrogation, dude," America said. "Last time he said he would spill everything. And he did."_

_ "And isn't that a good thing?" England demanded. "We'd get free information with no hassle."_

_ America sighed. "I don't feel really good about questioning him, though. We were on pretty good terms before the war [4], and he's just so innocent."_

Innocent, am I? _Italy thought._ Oh, America, if only you really knew what goes on in the mafia… _He turned his attention back to the Allies' conversation._

_ "I'll do it, then," England said. "You and Canada don't have to do anything; just leave him to me." There was a slight pause. "Hey, America. Why do you think he was flying a plane, anyway? And into our territory no less."_

_ "I suppose his boss told him to do it," America replied. "Dunno why, though…"_

_ Italy couldn't hear any more as they moved away from the door. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. Sure, he had been quickly captured and had volunteered information earlier in the war, but that was back when it seemed like the war was in the Axis's favor. But now too much was at stake. There was no telling what would happen to his country. England would not get any information from him today._

_ Less than half an hour later, the island nation opened the door to the cell, briefly startling Italy._

_ "Hello, Italy. Long time no see," England said, smiling._

_ "It's only been a few years," Italy replied. "I wouldn't call that a long time." Something about England's smile worried him. It seemed more… _malicious_ somehow. When did England's smile change? Did the other Allies not notice? And there was something else in that smile too. Anger and… bitterness? None of this was making sense._

_ "How about I ask you a few questions, hmm?" England said, sitting down in front of Italy. Italy noticed that the other had two pistols strapped to his belt and shivered unconsciously. England's smile grew wider. The interrogation began._

_ "What are you doing here, Italy? Why were you flying a plane?"_

_ Italy cocked his head and gave England a fake smile back. "Isn't it obvious? I was looking for pasta~"_

_ England's smile faltered. "Pasta? In the sky?"_

_ "Yes, don't you know? Pasta grows on clouds~" Italy gave England the most innocent face he could muster._

_ "Is that so," England hummed. "How's your boss? What's he been up to?"_

_ "Nothing much," Italy replied. "Just, you know, figuring out how to kick the Allies' a**es."_

_ England's eyes narrowed. "Not feeling very cooperative today, are we?"_

_ "Not at all," Italy replied cheerfully. The more he irritated England, the better. Right?_

_ England's eyes had narrowed to emerald slits. He looked kind of creepy with the slit-eyes and smile. "I think we'll continue this another time. I'll be off to arrange something, 'kay, Italy?" He got up and opened the door. Golden light from the corridor spilled in, outlining his silhouette. He turned and gave Italy one more smile. "Oh, and Italy, I think you should know this. We've captured the majority of the pilots who flew out with you. Your planes are _very_ easy to bring down." Then he closed the door, leaving Italy staring at the iron in horror._

_ What was England, in this state, going to do to his soldiers? It wouldn't be anything good; England's last smile was the smile of a sadist. Italy's question was answered when, forty minutes later, England returned with two guards. They bound his hands and blindfolded him again, and led him through the camp. Finally, they took off his blindfold in a blocked off area with sturdy walls to protect from explosives and peeking eyes alike. Italy expected a torture arena or something similar, but the area was just… empty. There wasn't anything except a few windows on the opposite side. Outside the building, dusk was falling; he had been in the cell for almost an entire day. England walked towards the windows, beckoning for Italy to follow. Italy walked with England to the windows but didn't look out yet._

_ "You know, Italy," England began, "Since you were feeling so uncooperative today, I arranged a little show for you. Maybe afterwards we can have a proper conversation."_

_ Italy didn't want to know what kind of "show" England had arranged. He didn't want to look out the window, but his curiosity overcame him and he looked. The windows looked out onto a dark, open field. Shadowy figures appeared, creeping quietly through what little grass there was. Italy's heart dropped into his stomach when he realized who those figures were._

_ "You see, Italy," England said. "I thought we might relax our security just for one hour. Just enough time for your fellow pilots to 'escape'."_

_ "No! England, you-" Italy broke off as his pilots, his people, ran out onto the field with their bodies low to the ground, hiding as best they could under the cover of darkness. When all the pilots were in sight, England gave Italy a sadistic smile. "The show should begin any second now."_

_ As he said the words, a flash of orange lit up the window, a slight rumble shaking the ground. The first flash was quickly followed by more explosions, forcing Italy to watch as his men were blown up right in front of his eyes. Pain from each of the Italians' deaths accompanied each bomb. When it was over, Italy sank to his knees, the last fragments of pain fading away._

_ "England… how could you?" Italy looked up at the island country, tears running down his face. "How could you do something like this?" he demanded. "This isn't you, England. The Great Britain I know wouldn't do something like this. What happened to you?"_

_ England stared back at Italy, anger and bitterness filling his forest-green eyes. "What happened to me? The war happened. The Blitz happened. That's what, Italy. Do you know how much pain you and your f***ing allies caused me?" His voice had risen to a shout. Italy saw a crazed look enter his eyes and knew there would be no reasoning with England at the moment. He curled up and started to cry._

* * *

Lovino's face had changed rapidly from shock to outrage while he listened to Feliciano's story. "That bastard! Next time I see him, I'm going to kick his f***ing a** for making you watch that!"

Feliciano sighed sadly. "No, fratello, it's okay. I forgave him several decades ago; You don't have to punish him. It was pretty clear he had snapped a little; I don't know how the other Allies didn't notice. But that wasn't England."

Lovino growled in frustration. "Still, why didn't they tell me that you were captured?"

"Probably because Germany rescued me a few hours later," Feliciano replied. They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then Lovino sighed.

"So that's why you were scared of the brooms," he said. "Getting shot down, then seeing your own soldiers blown up… I don't know anyone who _wouldn't_ be scared of solo flying after that." He gave Feliciano a genuine smile, one that the other countries rarely ever saw. "If you ever get scared, I'm here for you."

Feliciano broke into a huge smile too. "Aww, you do care!" He enveloped Lovino in a hug. The older Italian's face turned bright red. "G-get off me!"

"Lovino? Mate, you in here?" Ron rounded a bookshelf and, upon seeing the hugging twins, broke off midsentence. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

"Nope!" Feliciano said happily. "Why are you here, Ron? Did something happen?"

"And how did you even know we were here in the first place?" Lovino grumbled.

Ron broke into an excited grin. "Oh yes, something happened. And the reason I knew you two were here was because Malfoy said something like, 'That scaredy-cat idiot and his brother are hiding in the library right now!' But Malfoy's not important right now. You two aren't going to believe this!" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "_Harry's the new Gryffindor Seeker!_"

"Really? That's so exciting!" Feliciano chirped. "Wait, what's a Seeker?" Lovino facepalmed at Feliciano's question while Ron looked shocked.

"Didn't I tell you about Quidditch on the train?" he asked.

Lovino rolled his eyes "He probably forgot. What did you expect?"

Ron shrugged, and began explaining what a Seeker was to Feliciano while Lovino decided to tune them out. It was only when Ron began calling his name did Lovino return to reality. "Lovino? Mate, you listening?"

"Yeah, what?"

"It's dinner time," Ron said. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"No."

"Who cares?" Feliciano said happily. "FOOOOD!" He ran out of the library; Lovino could hear Madam Pince, the librarian, scolding him as he dashed out the door.

"Lovino, you coming?" Ron asked, getting up.

"In a few minutes," Lovino said. "I'm going to write a letter."

"Alright, find us when you're done," Ron replied as he disappeared around a bookshelf. Lovino sighed and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill and began to write.

_**Dear Arthur, you big jacka**,**_

_** Let me get something straight: I'm only writing this because I have to, and because after what happened in flying lessons my brother isn't going to want to talk to you anyway.**_

_** Feliciano was Sorted into Slytherin. I've been Sorted into Gryffindor, with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who are both nice people and infinitely better than you. Only one thing has found out our secret, and it's the Sorting Hat. We've had at least one class in every subject so far, and nothing terribly bad has happened yet. Professor Snape seems to hate Harry, any idea why? There's also this other Slytherin kid called Draco Malfoy who constantly picks on Feliciano and taunts Harry. What's up with him?**_

_** Anyway. Flying lessons.**_

_** We had our first flying lesson today, and Feliciano was scared out of his wits of getting on a broom and flying alone. Do you know why? I'll tell you why. During World War II, you, America, and Canada shot down his plane and captured him (and you didn't bother to tell me. Care to explain?) Immediately after he was shot down, you interrogated him, and when he refused to tell you any information, you blew up his remaining men to force him. You did it all with a smile on your face. What the f*** is wrong with you? Not even Russia is that cruel. Because of you, Feliciano is scared of solo flying of any kind. He said he forgives you. I don't. You'd better send me a sincere apology for what you did, you bastard.**_

_** Send me a reply soon. I'm waiting.**_

_** Lovino**_

Lovino rolled up the parchment and quickly made his way up to the deserted Owlery. The moment he stepped in, Chiara swooped down to land on his shoulder, hooting softly. Lovino smiled as he reached up to stroke her back. She nuzzled his wrist and clicked her beak in anticipation.

"Yes, I have a letter," Lovino said, holding it out for her to take. "I need you to take this to England. Got it? Take this to the United Kingdom."

Chiara gave a muffled hoot before taking off, soaring away into the night. Lovino stood and watched her for a few seconds before running down to the Great Hall to meet his friends.

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Lovino were eating breakfast when Hedwig and Chiara flew down at the same time and tried to approach their respective owners, only for their wings to hit each other in midair. Chiara was thrown onto Ron's chest while Hedwig landed on his plate. Ron's bacon and eggs flew into the air. As Ron cursed and tried to clean up the mess of feathers and food, Harry and Lovino plucked their letters from their owls.

Harry was wondering who would want to send him a letter; all his friends were at Hogwarts, and why would the Dursleys ever want to write to him? His question was answered when he unfolded the parchment and read the message, written in a messy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_ I know you have today's afternoon off, so do you want to come down to my cabin for a cup of tea? Send your answer back with Hedwig._

_ Hagrid_

Harry borrowed a quill from Ron and scribbled on the back, _Yes, see you then_. He held it out to Hedwig, who was ruffling her feathers, trying to dislodge a piece of toast. Harry fed Hedwig some of his own food, then gave her the letter. She nipped Harry's finger affectionately before flying off.

"Ron, Lovino, Hagrid's invited me to his cabin this afternoon," Harry said. "Do you two want to come?"

Ron glared at the scrambled egg he was brushing off his clothes. "Thanks so much for your help. But sure."

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, embarrassed that he had prioritized the letter over his friend. "Lovino? Did you hear what I said?"

Lovino looked up from his own letter. "Oh, yeah, sure. My brother can come too, right?"

"No reason he can't," Harry replied.

Lovino nodded, looking a bit distant. "Hm. Okay. I need to talk to Feliciano, so see you two in Potions." He got up and made his way to the Slytherin table, ignoring all the curious glances directed toward him. Harry watched him go before turning his attention back to his own breakfast.

"Ooh, look, it's the idiot's brother," Malfoy drawled as Lovino approached the Slytherin table. "What's wrong, coward? Going to get your brother so you can cry in the library together?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Lovino replied, not really paying attention to the blond's words.

"Scared of flying? Or is it the brooms?"

Lovino's head snapped up. He whipped around and gave Malfoy a glare so intense the other boy instinctively shrank back.

"I said, Malfoy, _shut up_, unless you want to have your fingers cut off." Lovino snarled. "And if you know what's good for yourself you'll leave the subject of flying alone." He turned and stalked away, quickly going over to Feliciano and poking his shoulder. "Oi, _fratello_, Arthur sent a reply."

"Already?" Feliciano said, getting up. "Wow, Chiara flies really fast~"

The twins hurried out of the hall and headed towards the dungeons for Double Potions, reading as they went.

_**Dear Feliciano and Lovino,**_

_** First off, what is the Sorting Hat? Please remember that I haven't attended Hogwarts as a student since it was founded. Back then, students were Sorted by the founders directly. How does the Hat work, and how did it find out your secret?**_

_** Draco Malfoy is part of an old pureblood family, but I don't see any reason for him to hate Harry. As for Snape, I know he and Harry's father went to Hogwarts together, and they hated each other. Perhaps he treats Harry badly because he holds a grudge against his father.**_

_** To Lovino: I admit that I did shoot down Feliciano and blow up his men, but I was not… **_**mentally stable**_** at that time. I hid it from the other Allies, of course, but I was literally the Europe's last resistance against the Nazis, and taking so much damage did not contribute to my mental health. As for telling you about his capture, Alfred, Matthew, and I decided it would be better not to get your hopes up. After all, he was freed a few hours after I bombed his men, so there was really no point. But I am truly sorry about what I did. It was unnecessarily cruel, and my deteriorating mental health is no excuse. Please accept my sincere apologies.**_

_** Remember to use our public names in letters; there's always a chance they could be intercepted. And be careful and keep an eye on Harry. I have a very bad feeling about this year.**_

_** Arthur**_

"What does deteriorating mean?" Feliciano asked. "And what does he mean by 'public names'?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "And this is why you did not get into Ravenclaw," he muttered. Then he explained, "Deteriorating means 'failing'. Only Arthur would use a word like that in a letter." He glanced around to check for other students before continuing, "And when he said 'public names' he meant our human names."

"Oh," Feliciano said, nodding in understanding. "We should probably get to Potions now, right?"

Lovino sighed and nodded before leading the way to the dungeons.

* * *

[1] 1943-1945: Mussolini was rescued from imprisonment by the Nazis and moved to German-occupied Northern Italy, where Hitler set up the Italian Social Republic, a 'republic' that was controlled by the Germans. It had its own army, flag, and currency.

[2]When Mussolini was established as the leader of the new republic, his first priority was to kill the council members who voted to remove Mussolini from the Italian government. These included his son-in-law, Ciano. Ciano's last words were "Long live Italy!"

[3]Barrage balloons were used as a countermeasure against low-flying enemy aircraft and unmanned missiles (the missiles had been created by the Germans; they were flying bombs that were set to explode at a predetermined target.) They looked like giant silver balloons tethered to the ground with strong cables, designed to stop or slow down the aircraft/missiles. I did my research: barrage balloons were in fact used during the Italian Campaign, which was the Allied mission to free Italy, led by England, America, and Canada.

[4]_ "On good terms before the war"_ Leading up to WWI America took in over four million Italian immigrants. Sure, most of them were South Italian, but details, details. Shh.

**I am so, so sorry for not updating. I procrastinated a lot, but this chapter also required a lot of research for me to fit together. Also, since it's the end of the school year, my teachers decided to pile on the homework and tests. And in the end the memory turned out a lot darker than I originally planned. XP I don't have anything against England, he's actually one of my favorite characters. But the reasons he wrote in his letter were legit; England was the main resistance against Germany in Europe, even if it did have support from North America. If I were England, I'd probably go insane too.**

**By the way, I have a copy of the book now! Yay! Only thing is, it's in Chinese, but whatever. When I read through the flying lesson part, I realized that the flying lesson actually took place **_**after**_** their visit to Hagrid, so I'll just slot it in after the lesson. Also, in case you haven't figured it out, the cover picture for this story is a picture of Chiara.**

**Thank you to all my reviewers! Special shout out to Yuyake no Okami and TheWeirdGirl, the former for corrections on my Italian, and the latter for telling me the correct password to Gryffindor Tower in the first book. I have fixed the other chapters, so thanks! Since I have time today, I'll reply to some reviews.**

**GuestyGuest: Thank you for the info! I'm not sure how to use it in a sentence, though. Could you give me an example? Once you do I will go back and fix the previous chapters.**

**ArtofthePlate: That's interesting, I never thought of that! For the purposes of this story it probably wouldn't be best though; as far as I can tell Gryffindor doesn't have any classes with Ravenclaw.**

**BloodiedCoreOfHope: I'm sorry that it's so short. I do my best though.**

**Guest: That's going to happen eventually! Germany and Spain are definitely going to notice them gone, so...**

**To everyone, I'm going to be away a lot of the summer, and there's no guarantee I'll always have access to a computer/Internet. So if there are no updates, don't be surprised.**

**That's all, long Author's Note is over! Ciao~!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: In Which There is a Three-Headed Dog**

At about three o'clock on Friday afternoon, Harry, Ron, Feliciano, and Lovino left the castle and headed towards the forest, where Hagrid's cabin was located. It was a small wooden cabin with crossbows hanging over the door, along with a pair of boots. There was a small garden next to the cabin.

When Harry knocked on the door, a dog's bark startled them all. Feliciano was so frightened he practically leapt onto his brother, almost sending them both to the ground. A rough voice yelled, "Back, Fang! Back!"

The door opened a crack, and Hagrid's face peeked out. "Hold on jus' a secon'. Back, Fang! _Back!_" He opened the door a little wider, and beckoned the quartet in.

The cabin was small and cozy. It had only one room, with a large bed tucked in a corner. Game birds hung from the ceiling, and a kettle whistled happily on the fire. A large table was in the center of the room.

"Come an' sit dow'," Hagrid said, letting go of Fang, a huge black mastiff. Fang promptly leapt up on Ron, licking his ear happily before pouncing on Feliciano, who squeaked in surprise.

"These are Ron Weasley, Feliciano Vargas, and Lovino Vargas," Harry said, gesturing at each of his friends in turn. Hagrid poured the water from the kettle into a large teapot while stacking rock cakes [1] onto a plate. He plunked both down onto the table as the other three boys extracted themselves from the dog and sat down as well.

"You're another Weasley, aren't you?" Hagrid said, looking Ron over critically. "Must've spent half o' me life keeping those brothers o' yours out of the forest." He turned to the twins. "You two aren't goin' to be like 'em, are you? Twins mus' be the bane of my existence." Neither boy replied. Hagrid squinted at their House badges. "How'd this happen, eh? One Slytherin, one Gryffindor?"

"Don't know," Lovino stated plainly. "It just did." He and Feliciano were very obviously avoiding the rock cakes, which were tough enough to crack a tooth.

They chatted together about Hogwarts life, and after his initial scare, Feliciano warmed up to Fang. The dog had his head on Feliciano's knee, drooling all over his robes while the first-year stroked his head.

The four students were pleased to hear Hagrid call Argus Filch "that old hag". Filch was the bad-tempered caretaker of Hogwarts; it was rumored that he couldn't do magic, which was why he disliked the students so much. Filch had a cat named Mrs. Norris who would watch the students in the hallways. Should a student step out of line, no matter how big or small, she would whisk off for Filch, who would appear a few seconds later.

"As fer that cat, Mrs. Norris," Hagrid continued, "I'd like to introduce her to Fang sometime. Ye know, every time I go up to the school, she follows me around. Can't get rid o' her. Filch puts her up to it."

Harry brought up the subject of Snape and the events of Potions class. "I just don't get why he dislikes me so much!"

Feliciano patted his back. "Don't worry. He insults me all the time too."

"There's nothin' to worry about," Hagrid agreed. "I don' think there's a student in the school he really likes."

"But he really seems to _hate_ me," Harry protested.

"Silly Harry!" Feliciano said cheerfully. "Why would he hate you?" Even as he said that, he felt a brief flash of guilt, for not telling his friend what he had learned from England.

"So 'ow's your brother Charlie, Ron?" Hagrid asked, steering the conversation away from the previous topic. "I liked him – he was good wi' animals."

"Really?" Lovino asked, though his tone betrayed his disinterest. "What does he work with?"

"Dragons," Ron replied. "In Romania. He's working on a dragon preserve now."

"That's so cool!" Feliciano piped up. "Our guardian has a friend in Romania…"

Harry's mind wasn't really on the conversation anymore, and he tuned out Feliciano's ramble about "Vlad" [2] or whomever he was babbling about. A paper under the teapot caught his eye.

"Hagrid?" he asked. "What's this?" He tugged it out from under the teapot.

"Jus' the newspaper," Hagrid grunted, taking another drink from his cup.

Lovino leaned forward, his eyes lighting up in mild interest. "'Gringotts Break-In Update'", [3] he read aloud. "'The Daily Prophet. The investigation of the break-in at Gringotts on July thirty-first continues. The infiltrator is suspected of being a powerful Dark witch or wizard.

"Gringotts goblins confirm that nothing was taken. The vault had in fact been emptied earlier that day.

"A goblin spokesperson says this afternoon, 'We will not reveal what was stored in the vault. Please refrain from further inquiry.' July thirty-first…" Lovino glanced at his brother, who had stopped talking and was listening intently, along with Ron. "Feliciano, weren't we in Diagon Alley that day?"

Feliciano nodded. "Harry was too. We met him in the wand shop, remember?"

Lovino hid a snort. Of course he remembered. Nations remembered everything that ever happened to them. "Did you go to Gringotts that day, Harry?"

"Yeah, I did!" Harry turned to Hagrid. "Hagrid, the break-in could have happened just after we went!" Everyone noticed that Hagrid was avoiding Harry's eyes.

As they walked back to the castle, Feliciano asked, "Harry, did you know anything about this?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Harry replied. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'll tell you if I find anything out."

"Just don't do anything stupidly dangerous," Lovino grumbled.

_**Arthur,**_

_** Ciao! This is Feliciano. You asked about the Sorting Hat, right? It's a ragged old hat that talks and sings. When you put it on your head, it looks into your mind and decides what House you belong in. It seemed to have trouble with my mind or something; it was taking so long that I thought it broke! It looks like we're the first of our kind that it's ever encountered, because it asked me who I was. Lovino's going to write now.**_

**This is Lovino. We just found out about a break-in at Gringotts. Someone tried to steal something out of a vault that had been emptied earlier in the day. It occurred on July 31, the same day we were there. Harry seems to know something about the break-in, but he's not sharing. Any ideas?**

_**This is Feliciano again, in case you couldn't figure it out. I just wanted to let you know: I forgive you for what you did. You know what I'm talking about. That happened so long ago, though. We can be friends now, can't we?**_

_** ~Feliciano **_**and ****Lovino**

Lovino and Feliciano hurried into the Great Hall after sending their letter in time to see Malfoy strut away from the Gryffindor table with a smirk on his face.

"_Can you find out what he's smirking about?"_ Lovino murmured to Feliciano.

"_Maybe," _Feliciano whispered back. "_I'll try._"

Lovino watched him skip over to Malfoy and pounce on him from behind. He could hear Feliciano's babbling as he strode to the Gryffindor table. "Hey, hey, Malfoy, you look happy! What happened?"

"What is Feli thinking?" Ron wondered as Lovino sat down.

"Who knows?" Harry replied.

"I don't think he thinks," Lovino mumbled through a mouthful of food. _Hm, one week at Hogwarts and no one is dead from food poisoning. England should learn from his own magic school._ "What's got Malfoy looking like that?"

Harry sighed. "Malfoy challenged me to a wizard's duel. Tomorrow at midnight, in the trophy room."

"Wizard's duel?" Lovino directed the question to Ron.

"Right, I was just telling Harry," he said. "A wizard's duel is a wands-only duel between wizards."

"And you _agreed_?" Lovino growled at Harry, who nodded guiltily. "Are you crazy?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by Hermione, who came up behind them. "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation-"

"I knew you were going to do this," Ron groaned.

"- being out of bed after curfew is against school rules. Just think about how many points Gryffindor will lose if you're caught!"

"This doesn't have anything to do with you," Harry said.

"Goodbye," Ron added, turning back to his food.

When his friends had turned their attention back to their food, Lovino reached out and grabbed Hermione's robes, halting her in her tracks. "Wait."

"What?"

"Meet me in the common room in a few minutes. I want to talk." He let go, and turned away as though nothing had happened. He could feel Hermione staring at his back for a few more seconds before she continued out of the Hall.

Lovino quickly ate a little more, then stood up. "I'm going to talk to Feli."

"Already?" Harry asked. "You barely ate."

"I'll be fine," Lovino insisted. It wasn't as though hunger was going to _kill_ him. "See you two in the common room."

He quickly made his way to the Slytherin table, ignoring the taunts thrown at him. Reaching his brother, he tapped Feliciano's shoulder and whispered, in Italian, "_Did you find out?"_

_ "Yes. The duel, right?"_

_ "Uh-huh. Harry's actually going to go through with it. Can you sneak out of wherever you Slytherins sleep tomorrow night, and wait at the trophy room for us?"_

_ "Of course."_

Lovino nodded and whispered a quick farewell before straightening up and quickly striding out of the hall. He ran up to Gryffindor Tower, arriving a few minutes later. Thanks to his military training, he wasn't even out of breath. The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow at him. "Where are you running to?"

"Pig snout," Lovino said, ignoring her question.

She started to swing forward, but stopped partway. "Hold on just a second."

"What?" Lovino snapped irritably.

"You're not a normal student, are you?"

The question took Lovino by surprise. He started to deny it, but the Fat Lady interrupted him. "Before you ask, gossip spreads fast among the paintings. One of the Italian paintings overheard some of your conversations."

Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can I trust you?"

"Of course you can," the Fat Lady replied. "We paintings are very good at keeping secrets."

"Fine. Just don't tell anyone," Lovino said, giving in. He glanced around, checking for other students. "Do you mind closing the hole?"

The Fat Lady complied, swinging her portrait back to cover the entrance.

"I'm a nation," Lovino said quietly. "My brother, in Slytherin, is a nation as well. We are here because England, or Arthur Kirkland, asked us to protect another student." He stared the Fat Lady in the eyes. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Who are you protecting?" the Fat Lady asked. "We could help you, if your intentions are good."

"Why would you?" Lovino shifted his stance slightly, just in case.

"Oh, don't be so mistrustful, dear!" the Fat Lady chuckled. "It's just that we can get bored sometimes. It would be nice to have a purpose."

"Very well. We are protecting Harry Potter," Lovino said. He narrowed his eyes. "If I find out any of you talked, I will personally slice you to ribbons and set your frame on fire, school rules be d***ed. Understand?"

The Fat Lady nodded, then swung forward to open the portrait hole, clearly indicating the conversation was over. Lovino stepped into the common room, spotting Hermione sitting in an armchair with a book in her arms. He flopped down on a chair next to her, gaining her attention. Hermione bookmarked her page and set it aside.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked. "I'm assuming this is about the duel."

"Yeah, about that," Lovino pushed himself into an upright position, noticing how his feet no longer touched the floor in his eleven-year old form. "Harry can be careless sometimes, and Ron isn't much help. Can you come with us to the trophy room tonight?"

"Why would I do that?!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"You're a smart witch. The smartest in the grade," Lovino said. "We could use your help."

"Did Harry put you up to this?"

"No."

They stared intently at each other for a few seconds. Then Lovino sighed and sat back in the chair. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I'll leave you alone." He let out a long breath, then pushed himself off the chair and heading towards the stairs. "See you."

His foot had just touched the first step when he heard Hermione call out, "I'll think about it!" which brought a small smirk to his face. He paused and nodded to let her know he heard, before continuing up. Then he changed his mind and headed out the portrait hole, turning to talk to the Fat Lady. "_Signora_, do you mind passing a message on for me?"

The Fat Lady regarded him curiously. "Already? What is it?"

"Can you ask a painting in or close to Slytherin's common room to tell my brother we can request help from the paintings?" he asked. "I can't go right now; I have to wait for Harry and Ron."

"Of course, dear," the Fat Lady said. "May I ask what 'Signora' means?"

"It means 'missus' or 'madam' in Italian," Lovino explained. "Now please let me back in. Pig snout."

"Lovino? Are you talking to the portrait?"

Lovino turned to see Harry and Ron making their way up the stairs. "So what if I was?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing, I just haven't seen anyone talk to a painting for fun."

"What if I wasn't doing it for fun?" Lovino rolled his eyes. "Maybe I was just going into the common room." On cue, the Fat Lady swung out to admit the trio into the common room. As they passed through the hole, Lovino whispered to the portrait, "No offense." The portrait frame vibrated slightly as the Fat Lady hummed in acknowledgement.

The other countries may not see it a lot, but Lovino always respected anyone who helped him. The problem was personifications didn't help each other out a lot.

_We're kind of a messed up species_, Lovino mused as he resumed his original task of retrieving his schoolbooks. _Besides Veneziano and Potato Bastard #1 _[4]_, which one of us helps out the others out of the goodness of his heart?_

The next night Harry lay in bed anxiously thinking about the duel. He could hear Seamus and Thomas's deep breathing. Neville's bed lay empty, as he still had yet to return from the hospital wing. Harry wasn't sure about Lovino; he always seemed to fall asleep after Harry, so Harry never heard anything.

Finally Ron whispered, "It's eleven thirty. We should go."

The two boys quietly dressed in their robes and tiptoed down the stairs. They were just making their way to the portrait hole when they were stopped by a voice. "You're just leaving without me?"

Harry and Ron whipped around to face Lovino, who had been sitting in an armchair so quietly they wouldn't have noticed him if they tried. Lovino propped his head casually on his arm. "Well?"

"Lovino, you weren't in bed?" Harry asked.

"No. I was here, because _she_ was too." He jerked his thumb in the direction of another armchair. Hermione stood up, her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you're actually going to go through with this, Harry." Her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly over to Lovino, remembering his instructions.

_"Act like you were waiting here the whole time. I'll say that I came down here early and found you. Just play along. Do you trust me?"_

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ron hissed. "Go back to bed!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "She was _waiting_ to stop you two, and you're telling her to go back to bed like nothing happened?"

"You know, I almost told your brother," Hermione said scathingly. "He would never allow this."

Harry tugged at Ron's arm. "Ignore her. Lovino, you coming?"

Lovino sighed and got up, stretching his arms. "Since you're not backing down, yes."

Harry led the way through the portrait hole. Hermione followed the trio through. "Don't you care about Gryffindor, Harry?" she said. "_I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup this year." She moved to block their way. "I don't want you to lose all the points _I _earned."

"Just move, will you?" Harry said.

"Fine, but I promise you, when you're going home on the train tomorrow, you'll remember what I said! You two are such-"

Hermione turned on her heel to return to the common room, but froze when she saw she faced an empty portrait.

_"Make sure you come out with us. The Fat Lady won't be in her portrait, so you won't be able to go back."_

"What… what do I do now?"

"That's your problem," Ron said brusquely. "Come on, Harry, we're going to be late."

The trio hurried down a corridor, only to hear footsteps behind them. Hermione came jogging around the corner.

"I'm going with you," she said.

"You can't." Ron replied.

"Do you expect me to stand outside waiting for Filch?" she snapped. "If we're caught together, at least I can tell him the truth, and he'll believe it!"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Lovino slapped his hand over it. "Do you hear that?"

There was a whimpering sound coming from the next staircase.

"Is it Mrs. Norris?" Ron asked.

It was Neville, crying on the staircase. When he heard them approach, he jumped up and ran to them.

"Oh, thank God you found me! I've been waiting here for hours; I can't remember the password to the tower."

"Quiet, Neville," Harry shushed him. "The password is 'pig snout' but it won't do you any good; the Fat Lady's disappeared. How's your wrist?"

"It's fine. Madam Pomfrey fixed it in a few seconds."

"Good. Okay, Neville, listen, we have to meet someone, so see you-"

"No! Don't leave me here alone! The Bloody Baron's already been by twice; I don't want to meet him again!"

Ron glared at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I swear I will hex you."

They continued on in silence to the trophy room. Lovino dropped back to whisper to Hermione, "Good job."

"It doesn't feel right, acting like this," she whispered back. "If we're caught, it's your fault."

"We won't be caught," Lovino replied. "My brother's keeping watch."

"Feliciano?"

Lovino nodded. "Thank you for helping." He increased his pace, cutting off the conversation.

They had just reached the entrance to the trophy room when light, hurried footsteps came towards them in the darkness.

"Hide!" Harry hissed, stumbling backward.

A pale hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "It's just me!"

"Feliciano?" Harry asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard about the duel from Malfoy," Feliciano whispered back. "You have to get back to Gryffindor Tower. Filch is already in the trophy room."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment they heard Filch's voice echoing in the trophy room. "Sniff around, my sweet. They might be hiding in a corner."

"Run!" Harry said, ignoring Feliciano's yelp of "Wait!" He turned and dashed back down the hall, pulling Ron and Neville behind him. He could hear Hermione, Feliciano, and Lovino keeping pace behind him as he turned a corner, running down a hallway at random. He lost track of all the twists and turns he took. Finally Feliciano called, "Harry! Stop running, I think we've lost him!"

Harry slowed to a stop, breathing heavily. His friends slowed their steps around him. Neville bent over, hands on his knees, while Hermione was leaning on Lovino for support; Lovino didn't look too happy about it.

"So… where are we?" Ron asked. When no one answered, he groaned. "We're lost, aren't we?"

"If you had just _waited_ like my brother said, we wouldn't be," Lovino grumbled. "We can ask a painting for directions, if-"

He was cut off by a cackle from above. Peeves had come out of a hallway next to them and started giggling in his high-pitched voice.

"Be quiet, Peeves, please – you're going to get us expelled," Harry said.

"Naughty, naughty students, running around in the middle of the night," Peeves giggled. "You're going to be caught, you know!"

"No, we won't if we're quiet. Peeves, please!"

"Should tell Filch, I should," Peeves said, placing a finger to his chin in mock contemplation. "For your own good, you know."

Ron finally had enough. "Get out of the way, Peeves!" he snarled, slapping the poltergeist. This was a huge mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves howled gleefully. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Without prompting the group ducked under Peeves and ran full pelt down the hallway. Harry frantically pulled at the door at the end. It was locked.

"We're doomed!" Neville moaned. "What do we do? My gran will kill me if I'm expelled!"

"Let me through!" Lovino commanded roughly. He bent over the lock, messing with it for a few seconds while the others waited anxiously. The lock made a clicking sound. "Got it!" He pushed the door open and the seven students piled into the room. Feliciano, the last one in, quickly shoved the door shut. They waited with pounding hearts for what was to come. Through the door they heard Filch interrogating Peeves.

"Peeves, where'd they go?" Filch growled in his usual surly manner. "Tell me, now!"

"Say 'please'!"

"Don't mess with me now, Peeves, tell me where they went!"

"Won't say nothing if you don't say please!" Peeves said in a sing-song voice. They clearly heard Filch sighing in frustration.

"Fine, _please_ tell me."

"_Nothing!_ Haha! I told you, unless you say please, I won't say nothing! Haha! Hahaha!" Peeves giggled hysterically as he flew off. They could hear Filch cursing in the corridor.

"Doesn't Peeves's laugh remind you of Alfred?" Feliciano mumbled quietly to Lovino.

"How do you even think of things like that at times like this?" Lovino sighed.

"We should be safe now," Harry said. "Agh, what is it, Neville?" Neville had been tugging his robes, trying to get his attention. The rest of the group turned and saw something straight out of their nightmares.

Harry had immediately assumed that they were in an empty classroom, but he realized now that they were in a corridor. The forbidden third-floor hallway. Now, the reason it was forbidden was clearer than day.

Standing in front of them was a huge dog, big enough that its head brushed the ceiling – or one of its heads. The dog had three heads, each head's dark eyes trained on the group of first-years, drool dripping out of its three mouths. The only reason it had not attacked yet was because it was as startled by the first years as they were of it.

Feliciano, who was nearest to the door, fumbled with the knob, yanking open the door. All seven students flew out the door, running as fast as their legs could carry them. They dashed through the corridors, no longer caring if anyone heard them. All that mattered was that they got away from that monster.

Finally, Feliciano, who ran the fastest, stumbled to a stop at the landing of a staircase. "Are… are we safe now?"

"I think so," Hermione gasped.

"We should go," Lovino said. "Somebody probably heard us running like a pack of wild animals through the halls."

Feliciano shuddered. "I don't ever want to see that again," he whimpered. "I… I'll see y-you all tomorrow." He turned and headed down the staircase. The remaining Gryffindors huddled together as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Now where have you all been?" the Fat Lady asked as they approached.

"Not now, please," Harry said, shivering a little at the thought of the dog. "Just let us in. Pig snout, pig snout!"

The Fat Lady sniffed a little in annoyance at being ignored, but swung open anyway. Lovino hung back a little. "Thanks for helping me."

"You don't always have to thank me," she replied. "I was happy to help. I haven't seen those paintings since June!"

Lovino nodded, and climbed into the hole in time to hear Hermione say scathingly, "No, it _wasn't_ standing on the floor. It was on a trapdoor. That dog is guarding something." She glared angrily at Harry and Ron. "I hope you're happy now. We were almost killed – or worse, expelled." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "If you don't have anything else to say, I'm going to go to bed now."

Ron glared at her retreating back. "Why's she acting like that? It's as if we forced her to come along or something."

"Do either of you have any idea of what the dog could be guarding?" Lovino asked.

"We just had a near-death experience, and _that's_ what you ask?" Ron said disbelievingly. "No, I don't, and at the moment I don't really care either."

Harry looked thoughtful, though it was a little hard to tell through the fear still written on his face. "I think I have an idea, but it's getting late. I'll tell you at breakfast."

Lovino shrugged. "Sure." _And I thought this was going to be an easy job. I'll have to keep a closer eye on Harry from now on, or he's not going to survive his first year._

* * *

[1] I think they were rock cakes. I'm not sure. I couldn't figure out the translation.

[2] Vladimir Popescu is the name I use for Romania.

[3] I translated the whole thing. Be proud of me! If there's some really important error, let me know.

[4] Potato Bastard #1 is Germany. #2 is Prussia.

**I finally got my act together and wrote another chapter for you guys! It's about a thousand words longer than what I aim for, so I guess that's sort of a special treat. The painting thing was completely unplanned, but when you look at it it makes sense. I mean, what the heck was Hermione doing in the common room at 11:30 PM?**

**I only just noticed that I mostly write from either Harry or Romano's POV. You guys don't mind, right?**

**Also, I've gone back and fixed some gaps in the earlier chapters. Especially Chapter One. Go back and read it.**

**Next chapter will have the other countries at the World Meeting! Yay! I read somewhere that the United Nations meets in September, so yeah.**

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed and told me to hurry up! See you all next chapter! Ciao~**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter.**

* * *

Chapter 6: In Which Seborga Sends a Howler

Seborga was not usually an easy person to freak out. He was pretty old for a nation, and had lived through some pretty freak-worthy things. But never in his centuries of life did he have to deal with this before: spending several days in a single room with _every single full-fledged country in the world._

That was pretty freak-worthy for a micronation.

Seborga wasn't even sure how the annual World Conferences went. Was he supposed to take notes? Did he just need to show up? Oh God, did he have to _give a speech_? He was definitely freaking out, which was why he was almost late on the first day; he had spent a whole hour panicking in his hotel room.

Thankfully, he managed to make it inside the room on time. He located his brothers' placards and nervously sat down in Veneziano's seat with his folders, notebooks, and pens stacked neatly in front of him, silently pleading that no one would try to talk to him. Within a few minutes, the other countries began to settle down into their seats. Seborga gulped. Seeing almost two hundred countries assembled in front of him, he was tempted to flee the room.

Seborga glanced at his neighbors. Since they were seated alphabetically, the country to his left was Israel, who was glaring across the table at an unfamiliar country. To his right, on the other side of Romano's seat, Jamaica wasn't even paying attention, staring off into space and tapping his finger on the table.

There was a sudden shout from England – or rather, the United Kingdom, as he yelled across the table at France. It quickly escalated into a loud argument, with other countries adding to the chaos.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Germany screamed over the noise from the podium. Instantly the room quieted.

"For once, I actually want to get something done at this meeting!" he said sharply. "We will start with roll call, and then we will proceed, in an _organized fashion_-" he glared at England, then at France, "to present our views on the topic. Is that clear?"

"When's lunch?" America yelled from his place next to England. There were several sounds of interest from around the table.

"Twelve o'clock, and not a minute before!" Germany snapped. He took a deep breath. "Let's start. Afghanistan!"

"Present!" Afghanistan called, before breaking into a coughing fit. Zimbabwe slapped his back a few times.

"Albania!"

"Present." Albania just raised her hand, not even bothering to look up from her notes. Seborga idly noted that she looked rather pale.

"Algeria!"

The list went on and on. Seborga grew steadily more nervous as more names were called. His palms were slick with sweat and slipped right off his suit when he tried to wipe them. There was a break in the pattern when Germany called "Iran!" and was met with silence.

Turkey coughed awkwardly. "He's… um… busy."

"I'm not surprised," Germany muttered. "Iraq!"

Iraq… Ireland… Israel… Seborga was practically shaking with fear as "Italy" drew closer. He almost leaped out of his seat when Germany called, "Italy, North!"

"P-present!" Seborga squeaked out.

Germany didn't even look up from his list. "Italy, South!"

Seborga was seized by fear and confusion. Was he supposed to call in present for Romano too? "Um… present?"

Germany looked up, eyebrows raised. Many countries turned and stared at Seborga in confusion.

America was the first to speak. "Who are you?"

"Um…" Seborga swallowed nervously before blurting out, "I'mSeborgaandI'mfillinginforVenezianoandRomanopleasedon't-lookatmelikethat!" Every country had turned in his direction, and he shrunk back under the weight of their gazes.

Thankfully, England spoke up for him. "Everyone, this is Seborga, Italy and Romano's younger brother. Italy and Romano are helping me out with…" he hesitated. "With something right now, and Seborga is filling in for them."

Spain glared at England. "What did you do to my Roma?" he hissed.

England stared back coolly. "I simply requested help, Spain. He decided to help me of his own free will."

"I'm sure that's the case," Spain shot back sarcastically. "Because the United Kingdom is _known_ for asking help."

"I'll have you know, Italy approached me first!"

France scoffed. "As if. We all know Italy is scared out of his wits of you."

"Ah, well-" Seborga tried to break in, but he was cut off by America.

"Yeah, dude, like in World War Two he ran away all the time!" America yelled. "Whenever he saw England, it was like he turned into a dust cloud or something!"

Seborga finally found his voice. "Well, if you knew what happened, America, you would understand why!" he shouted at the superpower.

The room fell silent. Every head stared at micronation that had dared to challenge America.

"'What happened'?" America repeated. "I thought he was always like that around England." There were nods and murmurs from some of the other countries.

Seborga glared in indignation at America. "You were there," the normally passive and cheerful micronation spat. "You should know, America. You, England, and Canada."

England's face paled. "Wait, you don't mean… _that?"_

"Yes, I mean that!" Seborga shot back. "You never told him what you did, you bastard?"

"What? England, what's he talking about?" Canada said, but no one heard him.

"What's he talking about, England?" America said.

His northern brother sighed and slumped in his seat. "That's what I just asked…"

"Seborga…" England ignored his former colonies. "He already forgave me. He said so in his letter."

Seborga's eyes lit up. "You're in contact with my brothers?"

England, taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, spluttered, "Well, yes, I mean, they need to communicate with me while they're at school-" His eyes widened, and he cut himself off, but it was too late; he had said too much.

"_School?_" Spain roared at England. "You sent my Romano to a _school?"_

"He volunteered-" England protested.

"He's almost as old as you, England, but you're treating him like a _child_-" Spain spat, his eyes burning with rage.

England stood up, his own green eyes burning. To many nations' surprise, he reached into a pocket and whipped out a slender stick. "Say that again, Spain," he growled, pointing it at Spain. "I dare you."

"You think to threaten me with a _stick_, _Inglaterra_?" Spain sneered.

Germany finally had had enough. "EVERYONE SHUT UP!" he roared. "You are all acting like children! Which is saying a lot, because I'm younger yet more mature than you both!" He pointed at Seborga, who flinched in surprise. "Seborga is the current representative for Italy. We will let him explain. England, Spain, you will both remain _silent_. Understand?"

Both nations continued to glare at each other as they sat down. Everyone turned to Seborga again, and he gulped. "W-well… this is what happened…"

For the most part, there was silence as he explained. Afghanistan coughed occasionally, there was a moment when Albania made a weird choking sound but she apparently managed to clear her throat, and several times Grenada had to slap Greece awake, but no one fought or interrupted.

"…so right now they're at Hogwarts, posing as students," Seborga concluded. There was silence for a moment longer before every nation still paying attention starting yelling questions across the table. Seborga shrank back and buried his head in his arms. _Veneziano, Romano, sometimes I hate you so much…_

~.~+~.~

The next morning, Lovino was pleased to see Malfoy's look of shock when he realized Harry and Ron hadn't been expelled. The fear from the previous night had dissipated, and Harry and Ron both thought that the whole night had been a wonderful adventure, and were quite eager to go on another expedition. Lovino didn't share their sentiments, only nodding to Hermione in the common room and saying a tired _thank you _to the Fat Lady. He knew all too well how badly the night could have gone. If Feliciano hadn't reacted as quickly to open the door, they all could have been killed or mauled by the dog.

On the way to breakfast, Harry filled Ron and Lovino in on his What-is-that-dog-guarding theory.

"I'm pretty sure it's that package Hagrid took out from Vault 317," he explained. "The Gringotts thief was probably looking for it."

"But what _is_ it?" Ron wondered.

They figured it was very valuable, very dangerous, or both. But all they knew for certain was that it was about two inches long, and that wasn't very much to go off of.

Neville definitely didn't share Harry and Ron's feelings. He refused to talk about what had taken place, and only said that he never wanted to go near the dog again.

Hermione, on the other hand, stalked past them the next morning with her nose in the air, pointedly refusing to talk.

"What's her problem?" Ron muttered darkly. "It's not as though we made her come with us." Lovino felt a pang of sympathy for Hermione at that, and resolved to talk with her later.

At breakfast, everyone's attention was drawn to a ghostly-pale barn owl carrying a red letter. It landed next to Lovino, dropping the letter, which promptly began to smoke.

"Uh... Ron?" Lovino said, a bit nervously. "Why is my letter smoking?"

Ron's face paled. "Lovino... Mate, just open it and get it over with."

Lovino cautiously picked it up. "Why, what is it?"

"That's a Howler," Ron explained. "If you don't open it, it screams out the letter inside."

"And if I do open it?"

"It'll scream anyway." The letter was starting to tremble. "But it won't be as bad. Quick, Lovino, before it explodes-"

Lovino ripped it open a mere second before it combusted. The voice of a young man screamed, "_LOVINO, FELICIANO, WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?"_

Lovino's face paled and he glanced over to the Slytherin table at Feliciano. The northern brother's eyes were wide with horror.

Seborga's Howler continued in Italian. "_DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I WENT THROUGH? TWO HUNDRED COUNTRIES ALL YELLING QUESTIONS AT ME - SPAIN NEARLY ATTACKED - I THOUGHT ENGLAND WAS GOING TO EXPLODE - IT WAS HORRIBLE! AND AFTERWARD GERMANY GAVE ME A LECTURE, AMERICA PATTED ME ON THE BACK, BUT IT WAS MORE LIKE A SLAP THAT KNOCKED ME OVER, AND FRANCE TRIED TO FLIRT WITH ME! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU TWO GO THROUGH THIS EVERY TIME BUT IT WAS HORRIBLE AND I NEVER WANT TO FILL IN FOR YOU AGAIN!"_ The rant dissolved into sobbing. Everyone in the hall was listening, and more than a few were looking confused at the barrage of Italian.

Then the voice changed, and Lovino groaned when he realized it was Spain.

"_LOVINO, YOU'D BETTER BE ALRIGHT!" _Spain cried in English. _"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING OVER THERE BUT MAKE SURE YOU STAY SAFE AND COME BACK SOON! IF YOU GET HURT I SWEAR I AM GOING TO - "_

His voice suddenly cut off. There was the sound of scuffling. A rougher, deeper voice growled, "_Antonio, give the letter to me!"_ The sounds stopped, and Lovino almost breathed a sigh of relief until the next voice made him groan again.

"_FELICIANO!"_ Germany's voice boomed through the hall. At the Slytherin table, Feliciano jumped at the sound of his name. "_ARTHUR HAS TOLD US WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW. I EXPECT YOU TO COME BACK AND GIVE A FULL REPORT AS SOON AS YOU CAN, UNDERSTAND?"_ A sudden shriek made everyone jump, and Seborga's voice returned.

"_NEVER AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME? NEVER AGAIN!" _Seborga bawled. "_I HATE YOU TWO SO MUCH!"_ With a final cry, the Howler burned itself up. A stunned silence pervaded the Hall. Feliciano's face was bright red. Lovino had buried his head in his arms. After a few moments, the students' conversations resumed.

"What was that?" Harry said. "Lovino, who were those people?"

"The first one was my younger brother," Lovino muttered. "The other two are... my guardian's acquaintances."

Harry opened his mouth to say more, but he stopped when Feliciano ran over to the Gryffindor table, a package in his hands, his face still glowing tomato-red. "_Fratello!_ Arthur sent this!"

He set the package down next to the remains of the howler and handed Lovino a letter.

_Feliciano and Lovino,_

_ My deepest apologizes for the Howler. Seborga did fine at the conference and handled the experience very well, no matter what he had said. For the record, I did NOT tell them how to make a Howler. It was _(here several words were scribbled out)_ that FROG. I had no idea he even remembered how to make one. And of course, once Spain heard that Seborga was sending a letter, he wanted a part in it too._

_ I finished making the Vanishing Cabinets; it took a bit of time to camouflage them as Italian books. I wasn't exactly sure what kind of book to use - I considered a Bible, but it was too small - so they are large mythology and fairy tale books. Hope you don't mind. You have to tell it to open in our language[1], or else they'll just be regular books, and you close it the same way. Lovino, clarify for Feliciano if he doesn't get it._

_ I've been inquiring at Gringotts about the break-in, but the goblins are being rather tight-lipped. I'll keep trying, and will let you know if I've made any breakthroughs._

_ Keep me updated. Sorry again for the Howler._

_\- Arthur_

Lovino tore open the package. Sure enough, there was one book of Roman mythology and one book of fairy tales, both in Italian.

"What are those?" Ron leaned over for a closer look. "They look like, I dunno, little kid books or something."

"They're... family heirlooms," Lovino lied. "Our parents left them to us before they... you know..."

"Oh," Ron said hesitantly. "Sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay, Ron!" Feliciano said cheerfully, patting him on the back. "Lovi, we should go put these away, shouldn't we?"

"Don't call me Lovi!" Lovino growled as he got up. He nodded to Harry and Ron. "See you guys later."

In the hallway, Lovino shoved the fairy tale book into Feliciano's arms. "You get this one."

"Huh? Why me?" Feliciano squeaked.

"Because I would never be caught dead with a fairy tale book," Lovino huffed. "What on earth was Arthur thinking..."

"But what if the other Slytherins see?" Feliciano whined. "They'll tease me more!"

"Just put a book cover on it, then," Lovino growled. He lowered his voice to hiss, "You're several thousand years old! Get a grip, Feli, eleven-year old humans can't hurt you."

Feliciano pouted. "Fine." He flipped through his book, then said in Italian, "Open." Nothing happened. "Lovinoooo, why isn't it working?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Again, this is why you're not in Ravenclaw," he muttered. "Feli, you have to say it in Nation. _Dios mio_, how have you survived this long..."

Feliciano's eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance. "_Open,_" he whispered at his book, a little more sharply than he normally would have. When he opened the cover, the pages had been hollowed out to reveal a stack of Italian paperwork. He sighed at the sight of the work, then returned to his normal self. "Yay! I figured it out!"

"You should probably close it," Lovino said, glancing around. "Wouldn't want anyone to see."

Feliciano nodded, then said in Nation, "_Close._" When he opened the cover, it was a normal book again.

"I'm going to go put mine away," Lovino said, already heading for the stairs. "See you."

"See you, _fratello!_" Feliciano waved, before turning toward the dungeons, secretly thinking about how he could get revenge on England. _Hmm... Maybe I could send him something horrible for Christmas..._ And he smiled to himself before descending into the deepest parts of Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor Tower, Lovino decided to try out his own Vanishing Cabinet, slipping in his own letter:

_To Arthur,_

_Just trying out the Cabinet. I've got the mythology one, and Feli has the fairy tale one. What were you thinking? We're in a school full of immature humans and you send a _fairy tale book?

_ Only one thing to report: there's a three-headed dog guarding something under a trapdoor in the third-floor hallway by the Charms room. Harry thinks it's guarding the thing from vault 317. Don't know much else._

_ Lovino_

~.~+~.~

While Lovino didn't share Harry and Ron's newfound appetite for dangerous adventures, the three of them did agree on one thing: they wanted some way to get back at Malfoy. And lo and behold, one week later the opportunity came to do just that.

At breakfast, everyone's attention was drawn to a long, slender package carried by six massive screech owls. Harry was only more confused when the package was dropped in front of him, along with a letter that nearly hit poor Chiara on her way to Lovino. Both boys ripped open their letters.

_Dear Lovino and Feliciano,_

_ It was a nice idea to try the Cabinet, Lovino, but for now I think we should stick with owl post. It would look suspicious otherwise._

_ The item in vault 317 is a small, very rare, and very valuable. The goblins refused to give any more information than that. I have some theories as to what it is, but without more information I can't be sure._

_ A three-headed dog sounds like a Cerberus, but I don't know how Hogwarts could have gotten ahold of one; they're supposed to be really hard to tame. If you find out anything else, let me know._

_ Arthur_

"Lovino, have you been telling your guardian _everything_ we've been doing?" Ron exclaimed, peeking over Lovino's shoulder.

Lovino jerked his letter away. "Ch-chigi! Don't look at my letters!"

Ron shrugged. "Well, have you?"

"He knows a lot of stuff and has contacts in the magical world," Lovino muttered. "I just thought he could help."

"Ron, Lovino, look at this!" Harry interrupted, a beaming smile on his face. He passed them his letter, and Lovino hastily stuffed his own letter out of sight.

Ron read the letter and moaned enviously. "A Nimbus Two Thousand... I've never even touched one!"

"And it's free, from McGonagall too," Lovino observed.

They quickly left the Great Hall, hoping to open the package before their first class started, Lovino grabbing his brother to give him their letter. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on your perspective – they met Malfoy on a staircase just outside the main hall. Malfoy grabbed the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back. "You're in for it now, first years aren't allowed broomsticks."

"Oh yeah?" Ron shot back. "This isn't any old broomstick, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What have you got, a Comet Two-Sixty?" He flashed a grin at his friends. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as Nimbus."

"How would you know, Weasley, you can't even afford half the handle," Malfoy sneered. "I suppose you have to save up twig by twig."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Lovino growled as Feliciano and Harry grabbed Ron by the shoulders to prevent him from lunging at Malfoy.

"I hope we're not fighting here, boys!" came a squeaky voice from behind them. Tiny Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, bustled up the stairs toward them.

"Potter's got a broomstick, Professor!" Malfoy said quickly.

"Ah, yes, that's right!" Flitwick said, smiling at Harry. "Professor McGonagall has already explained the circumstances to me, Potter. What model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Harry said.

Lovino, seeing Malfoy's outraged expression, couldn't resist adding, "And it really was thanks to Malfoy's help that Harry's got it, sir."

They went up the stairs, chortling at Malfoy's incredulous face as they went. Even Feliciano, who was not one to laugh at others, cracked a smile.

"Nice one, Lovino!" Ron snorted. "Did you see his face?"

"What I said was true, though," Lovino smirked. "We were all there."

"Right, if Malfoy hadn't stolen the Remembrall, I would never have gotten on the team…" Harry said, grinning from ear to ear.

"So do you think this is a reward for breaking rules?" a bossy voice said. They turned to see Hermione.

"No, they didn't mean it like that-" Feliciano began, but Harry cut him off.

"I thought you weren't talking to us," he said.

"Yes, don't stop now, it's rather nice," Ron added.

Hermione reddened and spun on her heel, stomping away with her nose in the air.

"Ron!" Feliciano scolded. "That wasn't very nice."

"So what?" Ron said, though there was a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I'm going to go talk to her!" Feliciano declared, running off.

"What's got into him?" Harry said, watching him go.

Lovino just shrugged. There wasn't any way he was going to go after his brother; at least one of them had to stay with Harry. He changed his mental note from _talk to Hermione soon _to _talk to Hermione as soon as possible_ before hurrying after Harry and Ron.

~.~+~.~

Lovino had never had so much work before. In addition to watching Harry, he had to juggle schoolwork and paperwork. Even if he did have his brother to share the guarding and paperwork responsibility with, he still went to bed mentally exhausted every night. It came as a surprise when he realized two months had already passed at Hogwarts. Despite all the magic and humans surrounding him, life at Hogwarts was surprisingly similar to life as a nation: get up, eat, do work, socialize, sleep, repeat. He wasn't sure if he liked that similarity or not. Almost daily, Lovino and Feliciano received letters from Seborga and Spain; poor Chiara flew so much that she had to go to Hagrid after she collapsed from exhaustion. Eventually Lovino got instructions from England on how to make his own Howler and he gleefully wrote one with Feliciano to send back to their relatives. They stopped pretty soon after that.

On Halloween morning, they woke to the mouth-watering smell of pumpkin drifting through the air. Apparently Feliciano had actually gotten up early because of it, because he was waiting outside the portrait hole for them.

"It's so good!" he said enthusiastically. "Do any of you know where the kitchens are? I want to learn how to make it! Then I could teach all my friends! Oh, and I could teach Arthur too! I bet he would love to learn it!"

"You'd have to ask Fred and George for the kitchens," Ron supplied.

"You can try teaching Arthur if you want to destroy a house," Lovino added casually as they headed down to the Great Hall.

"Destroy a house?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Arthur is a _terrible_ cook," Lovino explained. "I don't think he can make anything in his kitchen without setting something on fire or _at least_ setting off the smoke alarm."

"I think he can only make tea," Feliciano said thoughtfully. "I don't know if it's any good, though."

To make the day even better, in Charms Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to learn how to make things fly, which was something the entire class had been looking forward to ever since he had made Neville's toad zoom around the room. They were told to split up into pairs to practice, but since there was an odd number of students, Lovino volunteered to practice alone. He'd been noticing something about his casting recently, and wanted to confirm it privately. He sat between Harry, who was with Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor boy, and Ron, who had unfortunately been paired with Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both of their infuriated faces; it was hard to tell who was angrier about this arrangement. Each of them had been given a feather, which they were supposed to levitate.

"Alright, don't forget that nice wand movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from his pile of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. Saying the incantation is very important too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Lovino glanced furtively around the room. Most of the other groups were having trouble. He poked at his feather warily. It hadn't taken him long to notice that whenever he – or Feliciano, for that matter – cast a spell, its effect would always be extremely amplified.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ The cry made Lovino turn to see Ron waving his long arms like a windmill. His feather stubbornly remained on the table.

"You're saying it all wrong," Hermione said crossly. "It's _win-GAR-dium levi-O-sa,_ make the 'O' nice and long."

"Well, why don't you do it then?" Ron snapped, face red as a tomato.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand, and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Her feather floated off the table to hover about four feet above their heads.

"Excellent, excellent!" Professor Flitwick cried, clapping his hands. "Look here, everyone, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron looked like he was ready to explode. Lovino turned back to his own feather. Flicking his wand the way Hermione had, he whispered, "_Wingardium Leviosa."_

The feather twitched and drifted half-heartedly into the air before dropping back down. Lovino glanced around, then said, louder, "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

His feather sprang up into the air, where it stood straight up, quivering, before shooting off like a rocket, knocking Hermione's still-floating feather out of the air and hitting Professor Flitwick square in the forehead. He fell over with a squeak.

The class gathered around the fallen professor, except for Lovino, who stared at his hands. "_What the hell?" _he muttered in Italian.

Within a few minutes, Hermione had gotten Professor McGonagall, who took one look at Professor Flitwick and said, "Who did this?"

Lovino raised a hand, trying to keep it from trembling. Sure, McGonagall was a pretty scary lady, but he was more worried about the sheer power with which the feather had hit Flitwick. He suppressed a shiver. If they had been levitating anything harder…

McGonagall dismissed the class early due to "an incapacitated teacher. Off you go. Your other teachers will understand."

As the rest of the class headed toward the door, chattering loudly, she beckoned Lovino over to the desk.

"Mister Vargas," she said sternly. "Did you do this on purpose?"

"No," he said truthfully.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I used the Levitation Charm, and the feather-"

McGonagall cut him off. "Vargas, I know what happened with the feather. Miss Granger told me. What I want to know is, what did _you_ do?"

"Honestly, Professor, I don't know," he replied. "It just… happened."

"Vargas. You really have no idea at all as to why this has been happening for the past two months?"

_She noticed too?_ Lovino kept his face blank. Of course, there was a very obvious reason as to why it was happening, but he wasn't going to tell a human about nations, even if she was, at the moment, his superior.

"I really don't," Lovino said evenly. "But you can try asking my guardian. Maybe he knows something."

McGonagall was silent for a while. Lovino kept his face calm under her gaze. Finally she said, "Very well, I will inquire further with… Arthur Kirkland, was it?" Lovino nodded. "Off you go then. I believe your friends are waiting for you."

Lovino hurried out of the room as quickly as he could, and almost immediately bumped into Hermione.

"Hey, what happened?" Lovino said, noticing that her eyes were red, but her mouth was set in a determined line.

"Nothing!" Hermione said, a little too quickly. "I just wanted to ask McGonagall about something!"

Lovino grabbed her wrist and dragged her away from the door. "Hey – let go – what are you doing?" Hermione spluttered.

"We are going back to Gryffindor Tower, where you will tell me what happened," Lovino said without looking back.

"Stop!" Hermione cried. "Let go of me!"

Lovino suddenly paused, feeling an instinctual tug from deep within his being. He pulled Hermione into a hallway off the main corridor. "Wait here."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode out into the hallway, following the feeling. _Aha!_ He grabbed Feliciano's arm and pulled him toward the hallway where Hermione was still staring at him in confusion and indignation.

"Now spill," Lovino ordered. "I promise both Feliciano and I will help you on this."

Feliciano, to his credit, caught on pretty quickly. He glanced at Hermione's red streaked face and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Hermione. You can tell me, okay?"

Hermione looked at them, and inexplicably burst into tears. Immediately Feliciano wrapped his arms around her. "Don't cry! It's all right!"

Lovino hid a smile. He knew Feliciano and Hermione had had a better relationship ever since the midnight duel incident. And he knew that his brother was better at dealing with these situations.

It took a few minutes for Hermione to stop crying. Finally, hiccupping, she said, "It was… it was after Charms… when McGonagall dismissed us early…"

Feliciano shot Lovino an inquiring look. Lovino mouthed, _I'll tell you later._

Hermione sniffed, then continued. "I heard someone say… 'She's a menace. No wonder no one can stand her.' I heard them… but they still said, 'So what? She's probably noticed she's got no friends'."

"Oh, Hermione!" Feliciano hugged her tighter. "That's not true! Lovi and I are your friends!"

Lovino had to resist the urge to tell his brother, _Don't call me Lovi._ Instead he said, "Feli's right. We're here for you."

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Yes, but… Feli, you're in Slytherin, people will look down on both you and me…"

"That doesn't matter!" Feliciano said. He finally released her, and wiped away a tear. "Don't cry, Hermione. Who cares what other people say about your choice of friends? They're your friends. It's whether you care about each other that matters!"

Lovino nodded. "Hermione, if anyone was going to look down on a Gryffindor, it would be on me. My _brother_ is in Slytherin! Slytherin and Gryffindor are practically archrivals. But I don't let their comments get to me, because they don't matter. Don't worry about it, Hermione. Besides, you're the smartest witch in the grade. The teachers all love you – except Snape, of course, but he doesn't like anyone – no one can look down on you for long."

Hermione sniffled. "Yes, but… Lovino, the one who said those things…"

"Who was it? I'll talk to them, if they're in Gryffindor. And Feli's got Slytherin covered."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Lovino… please don't be too hard on them… but it was Ron."

Lovino stared. He knew Ron didn't like Hermione, but this was going too far. "Feli, you stay with Hermione. I've got to get to Herbology."

"Lovi…" Feliciano's voice held a faint warning. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have a little talk with Ron," Lovino said, turning around and marching out to the greenhouses.

~.~+~.~

Ron was still sulking by the time Flying lessons came around.

Upon his arrival to Herbology, Lovino had given Ron the tongue-lashing of his life. He didn't yell. He wasn't loud. That was what made it sort of scary. Lovino had spoken in the most scathing tone Harry had ever heard, and all he could do was stand to the side while one of his best friends scolded the other. Harry hadn't even known Lovino was close to Hermione. Neither did Ron, and now he was paying the price.

Harry didn't see Hermione for the rest of the morning. She wasn't at lunch, and she didn't attend any afternoon classes. When Feliciano rejoined them in Flying lessons, he only reported that he overheard Pansy Parkinson[2] saying that Hermione had hidden herself in a bathroom.

All thoughts of Hermione were pushed to the back of his mind when he went to dinner. The Great Hall had been completely redecorated for Halloween. It was lit by five hundred floating lanterns, and a cloud of live bats fluttered under the enchanted ceiling. Will-o'-the-wisps danced over the tables, causing the jack-o-lanterns to flicker. A magnificent feast appeared on the golden platters, just like on the first night.

Harry had just started in on a potato when Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, turban askew, face white with terror. Everyone stared as he made his way to the High Table, where the teachers sat, and, leaning on a chair, gasped out, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

Message delivered, he sank to the ground in a dead faint.

Immediately, there was an uproar in the Great Hall. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to quiet everyone down.

"Prefects!" Dumbledore rumbled. "Organize your Houses and make sure no students leave the Hall! The Head Boy and Girl are in charge. Is that understood?" His voice no longer held his usual cheer. "Good. Professors, with me."

With that, Dumbledore swept out of the Hall with every teacher except the unconscious Quirrell following. The Great Hall filled with worried conversation. Students milled around, often hurrying to a friend to talk, while the prefects patrolled around the tables.

"What d'you reckon they'll do to it?" Ron said, leaning over to Harry. "Kill it?"

"No idea," Harry said. "Lovino, what do you-" He broke off. Lovino's spot was empty.

"What the- where'd he go?" Harry frantically whipped his head around. To his surprise, he saw Lovino edge out the open doors. _Where is he going?_

Harry ran through everything the Vargas twins had said that day. The broomstick... knocking out Professor Flitwick in Charms... Lovino scolding Ron... Feliciano saying Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom...

_Crying in the girls' bathroom._

"Oh no," Harry breathed.

"What?" Ron said.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Hermione doesn't know about the troll. Lovino - and probably Feliciano - they must have snuck out to warn her."

Ron frowned. "We can't just leave, though."

"Ron, we have to!" Harry said, urgency growing in his voice. "Besides, all three of them would never forgive you if we don't."

Ron pressed his lips together, obviously remembering Lovino's tongue-lashing.

"Oh, alright then," he conceded. "But we can't let Percy see us." Percy was Ron's third oldest brother and a fussy, rather strict Gryffindor prefect.

He glanced around. "Percy's gone to the Ravenclaw table. Let's go now. And if we're caught, it's your fault."

They got up and discreetly made their way to the massive doors of the Hall. It was slow going, and Harry had to fight a growing sense of dread, forcing himself to act casual. They slipped outside just as Percy looked back at the Gryffindor table. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, heart pounding in his ears. He turned to keep going and slammed into someone.

"AH!" Feliciano yelped as they collided.

"Feli?" Ron stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Ah... I'm n-not doing anything!" Feliciano stuttered. Even Harry could see through such a feeble lie. "N-no, it's not as though I'm looking for someone, no, not at all!"

"'Looking for someone'?" Harry repeated suspiciously.

Feliciano glanced at them both, then shrunk back sheepishly. "...You're not falling for it, are you."

"No. Where were you going?" Harry asked.

"It's Lovino! I'm sure he's gone after Hermione," Feliciano said, wringing his hands worriedly. "But with that troll... ve... I'm scared."

"Well, we were going to find him too," Harry said, patting him on the back. "Let's get going before someone catches us."

"Going where, though?" Ron broke in. "Didn't Snobby Parkinson say Hermione was in the girls' bathroom? Which one? And what if she left?"

There was an awkward pause. Harry honestly didn't consider that before leaving the Hall. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more carefully -

"I know where they are."

Harry and Ron stared at Feliciano.

"Uh... how?" Ron said dubiously.

"I know where Lovino is, at least," Feliciano clarified. "It's a... twin thing."

Did Harry just imagine it, or did Feliciano hesitate before saying "twin", as if he were about to say something else?

"Ve..." Feliciano twisted his fingers together nervously in the silence that followed. "Well... let's go, then."

With Feliciano leading the way, they quietly made their way through the labyrinth of Hogwarts' passages. As they crept down a hallway, Harry heard the Italian murmur, "Lovino... we're almost here..."

Suddenly, a putrid odor caused them all to freeze in their tracks. Harry couldn't help screwing up his face; it was like dirty socks and unclean toilets mixed with the smell of Dudley after he had just returned to the house after exercising (read: beat up a kid).

"What the -" Ron groaned. "What is that?"

Feliciano peeked around the corner, and stifled a squeak. Quickly, Ron and Harry moved to look.

It was the troll. It was ten feet tall, with greenish-yellowish-brownish skin, a flattened nose, and piggy little eyes. Its arms were thick as branch, and the club it carried was barely more than a branch with a handle anyway. It was dressed in a dirty loincloth, and the horrid smell drifted off of it whenever it moved.

The troll looked around, snorting stupidly. Then, with slow, ambling steps, it entered a room off the side of the corridor. There was a moment of tense silence before Feliciano whispered a curse in Italian. "Lovino's in there."

On cue, a scream pierced the air. No words were needed as the trio sprinted for the bathroom. Ron wrenched open the door to reveal a shrieking Hermione on the other side of the room, with Lovino tugging at her arm, eyes fixed on the troll, a grimace on his face. The troll had focused on the source of the noise and was steadily advancing, its lumbering arm poised to strike.

"LOVINO!" Feliciano cried as the troll swiped downward. In the same moment Lovino gave up on tugging Hermione and instead tackled the petrified girl to the side. The club scraped down the wall and smashed into a stall as the troll turned to face the three boys. They gulped simultaneously.

"SPLIT UP!" Lovino roared from the other side of the room. "It can only attack one of you at a time! Split up and confuse it!"

Feliciano responded first, pulling out his wand and darting to the side. Harry forced himself to do the same.

"Er... Hey! Over here!" Harry yelled, drawing the troll's attention. With a confused grunt, it swung around to face him.

"Oi, peabrain! I'm here!" Ron yelled, picking up a pipe and throwing it at the troll.

As the troll took a heavy step in Ron's direction, Harry noticed Feliciano dragging Hermione toward the door. Wait, where was Lovino -

There was a loud _SMACK _as Lovino slammed his foot into the troll's fingers, causing it to drop its club with a thud that was drowned out in its howl of pain. Its face creased with anger, the troll advanced on Lovino, who had accidently rushed into a corner. Fear flashed briefly across his face before he scowled, fisting his hands.

Harry didn't pause to think. "Hey, leave him alone!"

The troll turned in confusion. Lovino whipped out his wand and yelled, "Feliciano, with me, on the club!"

Together the twins took aim at the club and yelled, "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The club shot up into the air - its speed seemed to startle Feliciano, who faltered - it rebounded off the ceiling, slammed into a stall, and hurtled straight at the troll's head, colliding with a resounding _CLUNK!_ The troll groaned, staggering, before falling toward -

"_HERMIONE!_" Ron reacted faster than Harry, grabbing Hermione's arm and dragging her out of the way. The troll crashed into the place Hermione had been mere seconds before.

The resulting silence was broken only by the water dripping from the broken pipes and the pants of the students.

Abruptly there was the sound of many running feet. The Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Quirrell burst into the ruined bathroom. Quirrell took one look at the troll, gasped weakly, and sagged against the wall.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice was strained with barely-controlled fury. "Weasley. Vargas. What is going on here?"

The four boys glanced at each other uncertainly. None of them had prepared a story. Feliciano was just opening his mouth to possibly blurt out something random when a small voice surprised them all. "Please, Professor, they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall rounded on the terrified girl still huddled by the side of the bathroom. "What ever are you talking about?"

"I-I came looking for the troll. I'd read all about them, you see - I thought I could defeat it by myself." Hermione looked sheepish. Harry had to keep himself from gaping at her. Hermione Granger, telling an outright lie to a teacher?

"Please, Professor, they came looking for me. Harry and Ron distracted it, Feliciano got me to safety, and Lovino and Feliciano worked together to knock it out. If it weren't for them, I'd be dead." Her face was bright red by the end, whether from exertion or shame.

"Well, then," Professor McGonagall surveyed the scene. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think about taking on a full-grown mountain troll by yourself? Five points from Gryffindor. You'd best get back to the Great Hall."

Hermione nodded, not looking at anyone. She hurried out of the bathroom with her face still bright red.

"As for you all..." McGonagall fixed her eyes on the boys. Harry had to resist the urge to shrink back. "Well, not many first-year students could successfully take down a mountain troll. You each win your House five points. Now, all of you should return to the Great Hall."

They hustled out before any teacher could change his or her mind.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron complained.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," Harry supplied.

"I'm just glad no one got hurt!" Feliciano said with a huge grin.

Hermione was waiting for them at the Great Hall's entrance. There was a moment of awkward silence as the four boys stared at the bushy-haired girl.

Then Lovino smirked, grabbing his brother and pulling him away. "We'll leave you to it."

The trio watched the twins go. The moment stretched out until, at the same time, they all said "Thanks" and hurried off to finish the feast.

But from that moment on, Hermione became part of their little group of friends. Because there are some things you just can't live through without becoming friends, and battling a ten-foot mountain troll was one of them.

From where he watched at the Slytherin table (he was breaking regulations, but who cares? His brother's in Slytherin!) Lovino snickered as Hermione scolded Ron's eating habits. There was a certain warmth to her scolding.

_Take that, Ronald Weasley._

* * *

[1] It's my headcanon that Nations have a language that only they can speak and understand. I know I shouldn't be advertising, but in my one-shot "Touch the Stars" it's explained in story format, so if you wanna check it out...

[2] I know, in the book it was Parvati Patil. But since Feliciano is in Slytherin, I changed it to Pansy Parkinson just so it would make more sense.

Note: as VivyPotter said in her story "Those Times When You Just Thought, 'Huh'", why on earth would Dumbledore send students out of the safety of the Great Hall and risk their lives? Especially when the Slytherin common rooms are in the dungeons, and the troll was reported to be _in the dungeon_. But hey, for the sake of plot, they still manage to sneak out anyway.

Also, just to clarify: it is _established canon_ that Italy and Romano are not twins. Romano is definitely the older brother, in age as well as physical appearance (Romano looks 23 while Italy is only 20.) But since they had to be in the same year they are pretending they're twins.

**I'm so sorry guys, I really am kind of a jerk when it comes to writing. I just kept putting it off, and putting it off, and look at how much time has passed. Hopefully this super-duper long chapter will make up for it. I probably should have spent more time editing it, but I wanted to get it up as soon as I finished. Quick question for you all: would you rather have shorter chapters and more frequent updates, or longer chapters but less frequent updates? No guarantees - I have another story, and school, and an original story to work on - but I'll try my best based on the responses.**

**Thank you for your patience and continued support! ****Until next time, Storm out ~**


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